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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