That Paper Cut-out of Me

Sometimes the light catches me just the right way and

I am...

a wafer thin facsimile of myself.

Sometimes I see it.

And find myself feeling the lightness where I was shaved away.

Phantom limb syndrome fails sometimes.

And I become

aware.

I am as thin as a newspaper clipping in the shape of a man,

held up by the red ink words on the page of his skin.

But still just a wisp in the wind.

On those days,

the wind dies down, real low

and I just rock,

back & forth,

slowly floating downward

aware--

quite aware

of my thinness

and the disappearance of the mass I use

to exert my influence.