Hiding in the fog where I live. Safe from mirrors. Secure from the horrid reflections of my monstrous, inhuman soul. She stands tiny and insolent, arms straight down, fists tight, the whole of her shaking, and demands I follow. "Look!" she insists. But my poor heart cannot bear the weight of her perspective. Leave me alone! With my fantasies. Leave me in my fog where I needn't see my victims' faces. [12/14/98]