Mirrors

Bathroom mirrors…

Shaving,
Old has time to think,
It lives clumsily,
Needing rail anchors in the bathtub
Where floating takes on a child-like fantasy.

Backpack mirrors…

Yesterday's love forgetting,
As today's body remembers
Pitched tent atop a mountain peak
Sheltering bodies arched and riding
Pebbles hiding beneath a ground cloth.
Affections forever indented in knee-cap memory.
Climbing kisses.
Now but mementos
Afloat within gathering clouds.

Window mirrors…

Reminding stolen pleasures
With a feather-filled couch.
So nice to sink into,
So painful to rise out of.

Full-Length mirrors…

Miserable mirror on the wall,
Who's the feistiest of them all?

Mind mirrors…

Old once knew young,
Now has become the one who knew itself then
Beyond any fear,
Above any retreat,
Now stares vacantly
At withered skin,
Where trophy scars once glittered,
Their scar tissue aglow,
Now upstaged by octogenarian bruises.
F***ing table corner
Leaped out from nowhere.

Bottom of the highball glass mirror…

Look at this.
I know reflection's lookin' at me
Sending me that ironic smile.
Face smiles back.
A gloating embrace of another kind
Without gentle touch,
Without a kiss so missed,
As time races forward,
Readying another chance embrace of reverie.

Mirrors distort,
Don't they?

Of course they do

Everyday funhouses, they are.

Bottoms up