The Credits                                                      

I want to know

the intimate lives

of other characters,

not just those in my mind—

brought to life

through the tube

or the flickering

of image moving across image.

I want to share the moment

with a friend

sitting beside me,

not staring back at me,

with perfect make-up

and maybe airbrushed skin.

Outfits to match

the awkward beauty

we are grown to love.

Like a stem,

I absorb their light,

the tears that fall

like rain.

I am an image

grown,

in theirs.

I want to blossom

without only their help.

The quirks

of personalities

of friends that

are not flattened

in front of me.

Where are

my real friends?