week ends

For a while, I turned into
ghosts and scarves and mirrors

a ghost of myself, who has forgotten my past
who slides in and out of rooms, uncaring:
scaring people, who don't believe in me
with a persisting, tugging yearn for flesh and bones
to be held, even though my synapses don't fire
and I can't even comprehend I am ethereal

I would fall inside of you before you could hold me

A scarf tied around a boys head
or a pretty girls waist
just tied up in knots
or sometimes flowing
blowing in the spring wind, up into atmosphere too thin to breathe
a ghost could dance with me up there

It's too bad, the only ghost I know, is me

Mirrors, plural
reflecting each other, cascades of repetition
into infinity
mirror, singular but never alone
you can stare into me, and always find something, always see a reflection of yourself
I'll smile when you smile, I'll frown when you frown
there is nothing more than that. I'm not going to lie to you
but I won't tell you anything you don't already know
I won't protect you from your imperfections
I will throw them back at you, it's simply what I do.
For your own good, don't try to break me.

You've had enough bad luck with me these days.