A Solitary Walk

I’ve lost my reflection

And finding it is bucket listed

above the Greek Islands

But below retirement.

I don’t yet know if it is

In your mirrored glasses


In a puddle on potted asphalt

But I sense its existence

In my warm breath

In this cold air

And maybe there’s a mirror

In a damp corner of my past

In a shitty terrace house

And I am there, laid bare

And brimming with


Categories: Poetry

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