Mirrors.

I can trace my hours and days, with
Fingers, a little smoke and a looking glass-
How my face with morning confusion looks
Far behind my hair mussed with sweat
And grimaced smile and deep dark bags:
Every day a little different.
Myself a little older.

If you wish I will tell you, with
Just one hand and a coffee pot, of the men and women
Whom, I love-the number few and listed, far between.
For while I have hated a number,
Thoughtlessly chased others:
My naïve heart loved just one.

And with music, I can show myself
The hours I spent alone, drinking, smoking,
Reading, sighing doing nothing else, nothing else
Where/are: the hours that I adored the most.

Give me time, a jigsaw puzzle, mirrors and some slate.
And while I may not create anything you respect
Perhaps I could make something
Learn something
See something
Conceal something-
That could seal immortality.

You know as well as I do,
The arrangement we have- it doesn’t
Feel right, sit right, breathe the way it should.
I can show you in photograph albums
Of black and white - even of green and gold
What I want from you

It gives me the chills
To think of child hood, the beach and my face so cold
Obsession my desire for an eternal youth,
As I watched a dream die,
Or others cry realizing it’s no good

But you know as well as I do.

And I know very little if we speak of truth.