Thirty at Twenty to Ten

Glassy stare
Pair of mirrored globes
Through walls pierce
Hollow glances
Into space.

Frantic visions
A child holds a remote
Changes the channels—
Ultraviolet rainbows
Flashing and blinking,
Never ceasing,
Races past the eyes
But registers no

Distant noises
Playing with a radio
Between the stations
Static and crackles
Snapping unrhythmically
Hazy voices hiding
The ears hear everything
And nothing.
What is there to pick up
In a void of
Static echoes?

In the mirror
I see her—
My twin self.
But yet she is nothing
Like I.
I touch the portal,
The cold reminds me
She is real,
But is she me?

Do I deny her existence
Because she's not
What I am?
Do I embrace her wholly
For that same reason?
We all grow up—
Grow old—
Change form and shape...
Nothing is constant.

Nothing is forever.

The others of my years
Speak of interests
I cannot comprehend.
They enjoy themselves—
Laughter rings—
But I am blind...
I see no humor.
I am deaf...
I hear no joy.

They go in
Playing in bright lights
Toying with
Objects both
Bodily and

I go alone,
Thirty at
Twenty to