I change my reflection’s diaper on an hourly basis.
Every 60 minutes or so I have to look at it and think
that was once food in my stomach,
it was because I spent money to buy that that there’s not another bus
ticket in my wallet,
or full pens in my mug,
or paper on the table.
But my daily bread I owe in part to this all too cooperative reflection,
and in part to my willingness to receive what it has to offer.
So I guess I too, give a shit, just in a different way.
The way it laughs is so innocent. It’s really a joy to be around.
And sometimes when it reaches through the mirror and holds on to me
and tries to wrap its legs around mine
like its about to climb a flagpole,
I look down at its face
and see it’s trying to climb into a new place, the little mirror monkey.
There’s no use trying to tell it to stay in the mirror. It goes to work with me,
and starts to swing from doorframe to doorframe
like a chimpanzee trying to impress a chick
or simply cope with not understanding how a fart can be so terrifying.
It gets in the way of progress always trying to demonstrate
how even though humans can be more intelligent than it,
the developmental capability of a no year old has its advantages.
Soon it’ll rise up above all this knowledge and metal, and make us its
version of Planet of the Apes,
scream out across the top of a building its Konged to the top of
and wonder if it can bounce.
When that happens I hope I’m still there to tell it no, emphatically,
even if it seems like merely delaying the inevitable.
the real subject is always you 