Cracked up mirror crunches time on a street corner. Whose mirror is it? When I look for the answer I only see myself – fragmented. Jagged elbows collide with eye brows and a stray knee cap. Parts of a whole spaced wide enough to stretch across one block wide.

I wonder what it was when it was still a working body. A diner mirror or a full length? Did it know it was complete or did it always have that nagging sense of space with sharp edges?

I was standing on the corner looking at these pieces for at least one minute too long before I picked out a shard. An eye. I could see what only pieces of snip-its might recall. In that shard there were a million conversations half cut off, cut up, and sticking. Straight out.

“This neighborhood is getting better all the time.” Bright eyes. Bright teeth. “In just a few years all this will be gentrified.” But that’s only half the conversation.

A rooming house, big old and paint peeled to perfection sits slumped below the hill. A large woman in a floral house dress sits on her plastic lawn chair. Smoking. She looks straight through the conversational shards and into the street corner.

Does she see me or only my back? A chunk is left by the house. Scraps of reflection scattering in the sun.   

8 thoughts on “Mirror

  1. “Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Who’s the fairest one of all.”
    “I cannot tell a lie. Snow White is the fairest.”
    “Why did you have to go and do that for?”
    “Oh, sh–.”

  2. Hello, glad you stumbles upon my crazy little blog. Apart from writing very good you´re writing is smart. Loved reading these two posts, looking forward to reading more. So if you don´t mind I´ll be dropping by once in a while to do what I have coined “do my cool stalker moves”.

  3. Appreciating the hard work you put into your blog and in depth information you present.
    It’s nice to come across a blog every once in a while that
    isn’t the same old rehashed material. Great read!
    I’ve bookmarked your site and I’m adding your RSS feeds to my Google account.

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