Vermillion tears.

Max Factor pancake tan #4, lipstick scarlet #29 repairs superficial.

    Show us your true face, Oprah purred.

It lay on the floor. Rainbows wept from cotton swabs.

They laughed. They saw his face.

A tired old man doing pratfalls.

    You’re on, Barney. Showtime.

The level of vodka sinks.

Small crowd, not like the old days. He can see their faces.

    Hey, wasn’t that the old guy on Oprah?

No, that was someone else.

Wearing my face.