hall of mirrors

it was a lucid day

firm and elated sunshine fell on all

and i swore that when i turned

around to look for that tug on my

soul

i could see the back of my head

through the crowd

plying above the average man

looked down through the legs and

shoes that swarmed and slithered

around me

looked back but i was gone

and even then my words on

my lips were silent

what would I say??   elaborate

or engaging

i was long gone

drawn up in the populace vein

like corpuscules

the scar on my left wrist was missing

smooth formed flesh

undisturbed by a razors pass

so i may have been mistaken

i walk another yard and look

slowly down

pull my wristband down

there is my identity

a stuttercut

some old emotion

not since that hot afternoon

in a long forgotten carnival

where my pale driven face

looked back

from the thirteenth mirror

now its candles lit

to the patron saint of the

abandoned

and a mood of thin fogs

am i to become the reflection

or the reflection to become

we

..O..