(III)
The Rats’ Parlor
My disguises have been make-shift, nothing
to dazzle your eyes, nothing to make you
think twice about me. Ignore them entirely.
They are meant for me, not for you. I must
disguise myself or despise myself. And to that end
I deliberately dress for the rats’ parlor,
in clothes salvaged from a trash can
on a private estate, and assemble my wardrobe
with no regard for fashion. Or self-respect.
You understand in matters of the self, I make
no contribution… Indeed, I accepted their
invitation. The rats were surprisingly
hospitable. They poured me a second cup
of Assam tea and put more tea cakes in the table,
where we sat for a leisurely two hours of chatter
and laughter. I think I made a good impression
at the rats’ parlor. Perhaps I can build
on this success. What do you think?
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