Tan and Turncoat

Many times
I have witnessed your changing.
The colour you take on
Can be unpredictable:
The most brilliant tangerine
Or a shade nearer to olive.
You yourself are often surprised.
You wear your bronzed skin
Like a coat of armour. I must confess
I used to think you superficial, even vain,
For painting yourself in this fashion.
I wonder if you are hiding something
Or simply enjoy to be transformed.
Some may think you duplicitous,
A turncoat, a traitor
To the sun or even the body you live in.
In time, I have come
To see it your way.
(You are very persuasive on these matters.)
I do not think you are a traitor,
Certainly not more than any other.
You acknowledge the ways that you cover,
At least. Not like me:
I labour under the illusion
That I have no masks.
You are more honest than this,
And with each lick of bottled tan
You brazenly accept
That we are not what we seem.