III. left-side

Self-portrait is a social game,
like trying to tell a joke;
the object is to trick the crowd
to see what you invoke.

With dabs and hints and other strokes
you build up the illusion,
while relying on the others’ egos
to join you in collusion.

However, to convince the marks
of your veracity,
you need more than just a mirror
or a lucid memory.

Something from inside must show
to prove your good intentions
and put the stamp of truth
upon your sneakiest inventions.

Which is where we hit the paradoxes
of honesty in artifice
and, if we’re souled in separate boxes,
who may say what does take place?

Enough! I’m sure you must object
to all this going round the houses.
Why hop about the subject
in Heisenberger’s cast-off trousers?

There’s not much time and space left over
to pin down the uncertainty
and arrange collisions, if I can,
between words and my reality.