sometimes i close my eyes
and hold my breath
when i pass by a mirror
like going past a cemetery,
do not look at the dead –
superstition

i don’t recognize the face
that stares back at me
he’s not what he once was
and i wonder if others
miss the face that once
looked back at them
the way i do sometimes,
if they want a me
that is no longer he
or maybe never was

but i’m who i’ve always been
my thoughts are his thoughts
my wants and loves and appetites
are all as they were
and my eyes, these eyes
looked at mamma from the crib
saw the blood from the face
of that jackass i pounded
when i was 12 years old
and beheld newborn love
three times over
the same blue eyes that looked into hers
and got lost willingly forever

they’re the same damn eyes
hiding the same damn thoughts
just a few more for the road
how cruel is time to leave us intact
how cruel is time to corrode us