The teenage daughter said spitefully,
“We sure look good to the world,”
meaning the public face, the persona,
the mask. What’s behind the door?

It’s hard to match the masks,
private and public — like living out
lives in a Greek tragedy
or comedy — here/there in mundanity.

The man read a book about a great runner
who ran away from home everyday,
away from the sadist father who
was the paragon of virtue in public.

He tries to bring the private and the
public together and then he’ll
lapse and smack
the dog behind the door.

Fortunately, the dog is forgiving
giving the man the grace
to integrate his face
an inch or two toward God.