mirrors

i am back here

in the twisting hallways

with the too clean smell

and the too kind mirrors

mirrors who are people

�

one, two, three times

i try to wrench myself out

of the world where the people are mirrors

i wonder how i’m here again

how the soft wristlets got there

how the man with the frank sinatra voice

came back with me

his melody echoes in my brain

is he a mirror?

i know him

�

the halls are so different

i hear begging at the door

but i cannot get there

in this place where the people are mirrors

�

this place i only hope to ever visit again

with my eyes shut or my body on fire

how did i get back here

in the land of people who are mirrors

�

finally i wrench myself

from the place

the cool air from my cracked window

calms my breath

the full moon shines through the fog

in the land where i am a mirror