Paul C. Howell
	Mannequins and Metaphors When you find yourself looking at mannequins can you hear Them speak whimsical, nonchalant, meaningful…? What is due deliberation and what do they call A thing that has no name? Why would God Need us if we can't figure out an abstract dream…? What's a concept that can't be expressed except As music or an inchoate painting? And what Grates and blocks out light? We are lost in language… We have no brain Our eyes are painted blue and red nipples protrude We reach for felt hats with our fingers thin And beige skirts blow by a fan that's crude So we're taken for windswept women though painted Colors no one should mistake for skin