And then there was Alice

by John Smallshaw
(London, England)

And then there was Alice.

When I pass into the wall of the glass..
..everything ripples.
A stippling effect which is no doubt due
To the movement of the mirror as it lets me on through.

Alice did it a long time ago and she showed me that
..if I tried really hard..
..I could fold myself flat and no one would see..
..Except the reflection of me
As I went into the looking glass.

She was right as ever.
Alice was seldom wrong but she didn't belong where this world resides
Locked behind images that hide behind faces
that look into places where no one should go.
I should not be here I know but..
..I had to go see.

And looking at me that is looking at me behind the mirrors that free all illusion
I'm confused by the notion that the mirror's an ocean
An imperfection in the reflection?
Am I just a section..a rip in the ripple that I thought due to the stippling effect?

Affecting an air of nonchalance
I try to balance my act as I'm attacked by an idea
I should be a
Circus performer.

I can't stay here forever..Alice never..nor will I.
I've got my eye on the glass
Wonder if it's thinking of letting me pass..
..back on through.

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