Mirror by Kalin Winans

1993:     I’m curious about you.

You’re new.

You’re different from the others.

1994:     I wait for you to notice me

And for the smile that will stretch across your face when you do.

1995:     Now I’m up close and personal with your mouth.

My view invaded by your tongue

Banging on me as if you’ve found a new friend.

2000:     You look so happy

You little plastic princess.

2006:     Bring on the close-ups. I can’t contain my laughter

As I watch the deformed faces you make as you try on sixty-seven shades of eye shadow.

2007:     Why the fuck are you making that face? If I could talk, I’d tell you that

You will be hiding those pictures in four years.

2009:     I’ve been dealing with your flashes for three years now

So many new faces have joined you

And never came back.

2010:     You look fine. What is that?

The fifth outfit I’ve seen in the past 20 minutes?

Get it together.

Your flavor of the week will be here soon.

2011:     Why are you wearing an orange robe with that stupid excuse for a hat on your head?

Sorry, but you look like a pumpkin

After all the outfit struggles we have had over the years

You’re really going to go out like that?

2012:     Where have you been?

I haven’t seen you in a while.

It’s good to see you. You’re different.

But the same.

2013:     Stop. Why can’t you see what I see?

You. For you.

All I see is you.

So what the hell are you looking at?

© 2013 Kalin Winans

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