Alphabet City

It’s a favorite mirror of mine,
one where I still look good
popping a collar
or doing my best James Dean.

Background behind me
is plainly patterned
so I stand out
in bold relief –
the soft lighting helps a lot,
ambient, aside, overhead
but not directly.

I try to catch me in profile
but my eyes always seem
too shifty,
glancing as one must
to catch the view,
viewing one
glancing as such.

I use fingers,
not combs,
for the poet’s look
tousled  –
save money on gel
that way too.

I no longer do
that mirror-to-mirror thing
where I watch myself
cascade to infinity,
or catch myself
walking away.

Speaking of which,
once there was a face
at my shoulder,
but she’s gone now,
off to some other room,
maybe some other mirror.

© Chagall, 2013