May 9, 2012
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there is something I don’t trust in this face that used to be mine,
this epitaph for what I was
that taps insistently against the inside of the glass
(perhaps the past is leaking through
and I just want to stop it up in some old bottle in the sand,
toss it to the ocean with a note so it will float to somewhere,
find safe harbor)
and I don’t know what is missing
and I don’t know what I want to see
all I know is that a mirror is another place I need to hide from
another when I must avoid
but sometimes when I glance by some cruel chance into the glass
I do indulge the in memoriam

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