I speak not
of mirrors
but only reflections
found
on rainslicked
park benches
and moonlit
store windows
and your
moist lower lip.
The reflections
are so
shimmersoft
blurred
around the edges,
softened and skewed
on the surfaces.
I loan myself
to your body,
let my reflection
shine from you,
and project your
image
back to you.
I know you
through my own skin.

05/22/2002

Posted on 05/22/2002
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