i’ve always been interested in the places behind

the facades and screens of industry

the places where the structure of spectacle and appearance

sits like a child’s jungle gym in the sun

crossed 2 by 6’s with red stain fading

and aluminum c-channels full of spider webs

while in front a model’s face begins to peel and flap

like so many vibrant promises that never begin

 when all we’re given is a copy written grin

as i climb the warped braces behind her eyes

i imagine decades of fake smiles

that sad sad weight just sagging down 

into the ground