Neglecting Oneself Poem by RIC BASTASA

I stop by the mirror
to wash my hands
on a public comfort room
I have no intention of looking at myself
like a map
trying to find the path for a
treasure hunt
there is none i think
that makes day
a story for a pot of gold or what
but by chance i am caught by the face of the mirror
looking at me
copying me
mimicking me
as though i am not myself in there anymore
I dread
and so i washed my hands too quickly
and did not bother
drying them
with that paper or cloth hanging on the side
the face is angry
and it is asking
for my
apology