You Look Like You

Look,

It doesn’t happen often:

while shedding my teens.

adventuring

— Wayland way behind me —

noting moons (De Bergkant; Krakow; Misiones)

Maybe caught in any rain. Held by a flag

daybreaking birds her sleeping birches in Manhattan.

Or on occasion, when I’ve stolen

to some silver restroom, the aesthetic a cordial

the mirror a singular sound,

and I lean in…

My eye

has kept its freckle,

is hazel yet,

forever a mood ring.

There I know

a journey.

Sometimes time pours over,

I forget to drink;

commuting constantly,

A new front page, a new front page;

until all seems to seem —

scalene.

So

eye contact

when I connect

to brushes of color and brushes of color and brushes of color and

Shimmering Substance

to the mirror

“You Look Like You”

I say,

white with dust

like the hampered towel with which

she cleared my mirror,

because it doesn’t happen often.