A white dress
gives a bald man
a cup of coffee.
into the still, round pool,
he sees a large, reflective dome.
We are created, we are
created in the image of
the creator and forbidden
to create any images.
In the image of the creator,
we are creators of forbidden images.
The forbidden images of our reflection
are the creator’s one disputable act,
a secret theological rebellion which
the vast, crystalline innocence of the
universe must never, never suspect.
There must never be any ripples on
the still, round surface of our reflection
… but there are storms in heaven and
lightning that can crack even the best
mirrors into insane distortions…!
The white dress
watches the bald man
exhale his stale disgust
and noisily, stupidly
take a thirsty gulp.
A philosophical series of thoughts is framed by an image of an incident.