A View

Staring at the curtains, sheer, hanging in the bedroom. Roses cut in lace, with vertical stripes spaced between vertical rows of eyelets. Ovals connected in chains from hem to hem. A loophole observed. A place where mistakes can err on the side of judgement, while all the flowery dialogue, dangling between, barely covers, the view. Law, like film on glass, changes without reflection. It is the dust and dirt of life, which sticks to the oily surface and makes it hard to tell good from bad. Distortions refract ideology and values into grotesque shapes that project on any surface that happens to get in the way. Belief may cling to the surface or etch inside so deeply, it can burn with the smell of flesh and a hint of smoke. Recovering from exposure, unaware if repairs are necessary, the examination of values is required or perhaps just a parting of the sheers, to let the sunshine through, to clear the view and to add light where clarity was needed.