License Photo

They handed me the license back,

the photo stark and pale.

My eyes too wide, the light all whack,

a stranger on the trail.

This face they captured, flat and grey,

is not the one I know.

The mirror shows a different way,

where weary lines now show.

It’s like two different people stare,

one posed, one truly lived.

That official mask, beyond compare,

to skin that’s been quite rived.