Red-Headed

I see faces that
everywhere fascinate me
& pretty soon

they will all become
the visages of showroom
mannequins blending

with the blandness of
the fog-like reality
residing within.

What is this living,
a challenge of the spirit
or conformity?

Would Zarathustra
have left his 'Blissful Islands'
with its volcano

& traded it all
to stand in supermarket
aisles for tins of soup?