10.22.17

My eyes are bad
just like yours.
If I stand back
far enough
from this mirror
my reflection blurs
and I take your form.
It is in these moments that
I know you best
or at all.
I imagine when you’re
gone, which feels so
close at hand, I’ll be forced
to engage in this feeble exercise
interminably
as I’m not sure I’ll have the
strength to move away.
I’ll be a narcissist for reasons
of personal agony,
and your name will
feel like salt upon my tongue.

Written at 12:45 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA.