“I earned these lines; don’t you dare
erase one of them!”—
Anna Magnani,
upon learning that a publicity photo
of her had been airbrushed.

In the morning
I look at you
as you sleep.

You are so you:
the fresh sweet student
I first saw
fifty years ago
in the college cafe.

And then I go
to the mirror
and wonder
whose sagging
wrinkled face
is that?

All those lines
must have
sneaked in
over night:
a cosmic
cosmetic joke.

Wait: there’s one
near the corner
of the eye—
I had one just like that
years ago;
I couldn’t help it:
blamed it on laughing.

Then you come into the
bathroom behind me
look over my shoulder
breathe onto my neck.
You I recognize.


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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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