Glen Martin Fitch
THROUGH A LOOKING GLASS
The end. A coffee shop.
We're sitting side
(not close) by side
before a mirrored wall
glare back within their stall.
Our faces show we tried.
We sighed. We lied.
To look each other in the eye
we'd have to turn.
I spy the you my mind creates.
Alas it's not my love I find.
It's spite, resentment and regret.
I see two pair of hands, palms down.
And then you
check your image,
scoot your chair
Now we're alone, me-two.
I can't believe
they'll never see
the likes of us again.
But us? Yes,
even if my eyes went blind,
your vacant stare
is etched upon my mind.
Glen Martin Fitch's Other Poems
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