There are faces behind these masks.

Each day we explode forward, onto the stage with the power of a freight train.
We move forward and look into your eyes.
We taunt, we excite, we mesmerize.
We hold that gaze for seconds, and then we disappear into the boxes.

Next time I appear, you can’t see me.
He is sitting, fourth row center, watching my hands because he can’t see my face.
He can’t see my eyes, how alive they are.
So I show it with my feet, my fingers explode little beats, I fly across the towers.

Don’t fall! He thinks.
Which one are you? She wonders.

You’ll see the faces, the real ones, briefly.
We unmask, kiss, transfer our (and your) energy to the puppets.
Now their faces are ours.

Those eyes behind the eyes- What do they see?

They sense your gaze.
Your happiness, your sorrow.
I take them with me, through the winding bars of the towers, in & out of boxes and costumes.

I see what Esmeralda sees, through thin cracks in paper mache.
There is Quasi- Misshapen and hanging 12 feet above.
The water is there.
I pick it up.
I carry it to him.

Don’t Fall!

No, of course not! My feet know these towers better than your eyes.
Fix them on the prize- Where I’m going. At the end, you’ll see.

And then, when we’ve finally come to it, and I lie in a bundle, a heap, fallen;
Then I pull off this mask and show you my eyes.
And you show yours- Full, if I’ve done my job, with something like wonder.
Something like tears.
We meet your gaze, if you’ll meet ours.

This give and take-
This give and take-

And the wash of applause…

I love the way your hands now indicate your feelings, as mine have done.
–KatieRose