Equality

March 1994, updated June 5, 2003

I look up.
You are taller than I've imagined.
Your head floats above me.
I feel dizzy.
You look down with eyes
of faint gray and blue.
Your cheeks flush with superiority.
A sneer upon your lips, not a smile
as I turn from you and look higher.
Clouds soar millions of feet above me.
I look down at my illusion.
Though I thought you so tall,
though I didn't grow taller,
I look down.
You are smaller than I've imagined.
Your feet sink into mud.
My vision is impaired.
You're no smaller, no taller.
I know these illusions well.
Your awkward gawk is evidence
this illusion is a mutual affliction.
The prism, kaleidoscope scene
twists and turns between us,
steadily, and rapidly,
as one of us feels tall
one of us feels small,
and it rotates between us.
The truth is coming clear now. Your eyes are level with mine.