The Self You Show

You take the photo before you have the meal.
You choose which day made the cut, which angle, which light.
You write the caption that explains who you are.
You wait for the count to tell you if it was right.

The face you wear for them is not the face you came with.
The hours you spend on the show — those are your hours.
The strangers who like the picture do not know the room.
The room is where you live. You are not in it.

The self you show is the only self that’s left.
The audience never came home with you.