The hum of cicadas is gone
replaced by rustling leaves
an overcooked sun slices
a chilled-wine breeze
cutting through and pressing
against me like a lusty body
celestial and far away, still
grazing skin with intimate familiarity
May the imputed I rely
upon this mere meat sack
only long enough to satisfy
the necessary attainments
then may I move on effortlessly
to the next nest, to abandon all
to abandon none
There is a face that I once knew
we share a nose
and a freckle or two
she’s stuck in selfies on my phone
and ever present when I’m alone
She dances in the picture frames
at both my parents’,
the eyes the same
and even when I’ve grown stout
the similarity will be pointed out
The imputed I, it claims all things
that photo there is me, it sings
that car is mine and so are these kids
and this skin and face
and pale eyelids
Everything is mine, or related to me
while wise men retort: mistakenly!
mistaken appearance all my own
true as ash to fire and dust to stone
I’m tired of being blamed for the
inadequacies of others
reflected back at them
glaring
omissions come to light
you hate it, yes,
but it’s your mind’s appearance
though you cannot concede,
conceive
such truth
let the mirror show
I am tired
and so not accountable
for you
for me,
I take full responsibility
though I depend
completely
upon the kindness of all beings
for every little thing
for my actions – wait
— ha-ha, I see!
now just what they have
done to me
I, too, have reflections
staring back
challenging
to acknowledge, purify
and why not rejoice
while at it
lucky tired me
I am my own mirror
clearly,
I see.
The Halfwit Writer