MIRROR MAN

I look at my

phone:

many missing calls.

I look at Cambridge train time:

five minute.

I look at face in toilet mirror:

I want no more reparations

for self-defending against Dan.

How many jail years?

Five?

Ten?

Twenty?

I look my fingers in light.

Dan won’t wash away

From them.

I scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing.

But still.