Poetry

96.

The mirrored depiction of a fun time
is still a fun time, no?
There is no negation,
no cancellation of riotous laughter.
Whispered exclamations dance through the room

like

spirits wandering the woods.

Were they really there? Did I just hear that?
Does it matter, now that we’re touching?
Whisper what you like, love, and let me
respond as best I can.

When I look in the mirror, I see
you and me,
me in we,
we in thee …
the connections go on and spread around.
We are just right here, and we are everywhere
in this room,
in this moment,
every fiber of my being leans into these
rough and graceful actions.

That was then. Now,
in the mirror it’s just me,
and lost eyes that contain moving memories.
My eyes and I search
for another chance
to fill the mirror with fun times.

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