Karma’s Mirror

Shaving…

The old have time to think.

Lives clumsily need rail anchors in the bathtub
Where floating takes on child-like fantasy,
Then rescinding stolen pleasure
With the feather-filled couch.

So nice to sink into.
So painful to rise out of.

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

Shit

Miserable mirror everywhere.
Who's most feisty of them all?

Old once knew young,
The now 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 a monstrous bruise.

Fucking table corner.
Leaped out from nowhere.

Look at this…

I know reflection's lookin' at me.

Irony sends a 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.

Mirrors distort
Don't they?

Of course they do.