Mirrors At 4 A.M by Charles Simic
You must come to them sideways
In rooms webbed in shadow,
Sneak a view of their emptiness
Without them catching
A glimpse of you in return.
The secret is,
Even the empty bed is a burden to them,
A pretense.
They are more themselves keeping
The company of a blank wall,
The company of time and eternity
Which, begging your pardon,
Cast no image
As they admire themselves in the mirror,
While you stand to the side
Pulling a hanky out
To wipe your brow surreptitiously. Art by Emil Robinson
Recommended listening: Werewolf - Fiona Apple Magnolia - J J Cale
Links of the Day: TED Talk: Tshering Tobgay Mumbai's Time Capsule Cafes The Passive-aggressive Art Gallery For the love of postcards