The introduction of myself to myself
took place at 0420 hours
on the 15th day of February 2002
in another's mirror. The mirror
was the legal property of InterContinental Hotels Group
and was situate in Room 201 of the Holiday Inn Express,
in a town I'd rather not name at the moment
because that would give the game away
and provoke a gang of thugs to come get me.
I said hello to myself and told myself
that life is strange, tomorrow is another day,
and there are plenty more fish in the sea.
This was enough platitudes for that time of day,
for any time of day, for any day,
and I began to pull myself together. My feet
had walked a long way away from my heart,
my hair was wild, my blood
was coursing through an intricate network
of pipes and conduits, access to which
could only be obtained after several hours
of serious bureaucracy. If only I had kept myself
all in a bag, tied together at the top
with a twine that would have been cheap
but unbreakable. If only I had
not worn that shirt women find
so stupidly attractive. And if she had
not had such noticeable rings
holding her breasts together. I am weak.
I am weak I am weak.
Did I say I was weak? This is true.