Wandering back onto streets I haven’t walked in years. Who was it used to talk about the streets being owned? Owned by us, ‘These are our streets!’
Somehow we have lost our title or lost control, or just walked away in disgust.
Now the reflections that peek back from dirty windows come across unfamiliar and awkward. I can imagine myself in this same spot seven years ago, looking into shop windows as I pass, catching reflections of ghosts staring back at me.
Only now I realize I was seeing pictures of myself as I would look in the future, how I look now.
These mirrors don’t recognize me anymore. They can’t compliment me anymore. I stare at myself and I feel at odds, as if I should think of something to say to my reflection.
But I can’t, it just seems useless and trite. I stand alone, trying to find a few words to offer myself. I only stare back, speechless, hollow and afraid, no longer able to face me.
© Robert Emmett McWhorter
