Looking at Me

a shape-shifter
a random number
a ticking bomb
deep in slumber

a reflection shrouded in smoke
a doubt at the back of the mind
a nagging memory, like a tape
with no rewind

just a lump of clay
with a backbone
with a few grey cells
maybe best left alone

like the views past curtains in my windows
like colours in black-n-white photos
like the secrets in a magician's shows
like the gold at the feet of the rainbows
like legends, true and imagined
as for reality, well...who knows?