Old man in the mirror

An old man watches me through my mirror.

It couldn’t be clearer,

His days are gone.

Like his old hippie song.

Old man staring.

Still wanting, still caring.

Like the mirror’s a door.

And his eyes just a whore

Lost in the past.

Where time moved too fast.

And men would fight for the right to

Want something more.

Your eyes.

I wish I could have your eyes.

So when I look at you you could know true beauty.

I wish I could have your hair.

So you could smell your sweet aroma on the pillow next to me

And if I could have your skin

You could feel the soothing electric charge that comes from being caressed by you.

And if your lips were mine you would feel the warm gentle passion of kissing you.


Spam comes in a can

Or a laptop or a phone.

You’re never alone

With spam

You’ll never get lonely

If you can phonyly

Be liked

By friends you’ve never met.

Clicking with no regret.

Hoping through

this technological circuitry

And internet intimacy.

You’ll like them back.

An empty “like” lightens the mood

And for a moment…

You don’t feel

The deep deep solitude.