May 2, 2010 (I was 65)
Shave long enough and what stares back from the mirror
is the
reverse of what stared back as a kid
The halo
replaced by faded dimness
Once pink
cheekbones of apprehensive promise
now
nearly pierce their tired drape of skin
Lips then
willing to try on smiles
adhere to
a crooked-stick bent line
Windows
that let me deep into the house
are
etched and opaque both sides of the glass
There is
inside and there is outside
But the
shared side that made me stare so long
requires
a sense of balance I no longer have
an
ability to project as well as reflect
The
ability to make an audience believe
in spite
of all that’s happened
it will
turn out all right in the end
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