I think I wrote this poem about 20 years ago. I've always liked it but it is now officially out of my send-out book.
The Pretense
As a child you ran across fields
pretending to be a horse--
and years later you see
how the world still spins
on pretense. Your boyfriend
thinks he's a cowboy,
and your best friend struts
across the room like Barbara Stanwyck
in The Lady Eve.
Your boss thinks he's George C. Scott
playing General Patton
and that man slouching
across the parking lot just now,
Humphrey Bogart,
who was always pretending to be
someone else. Your own role
in this lifetime, you know,
is to stop being Catherine
in Wuthering Heights,
suffering and in love
with the wrong person.
Your role is run
to the top of the hill
on a spring afternoon,
a whinny rippling from your throat.
--Bethany Reid
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