“...and gaze at the reflection in the mirror,
As streetlights gaze at drying puddles...”
Draw in the smoke and with the motion of a finger,
shake off the lazy fireflies, which linger
to burn to ash. Cold bathroom lights reveal your flaws,--
the bald spot in your hair, the crooked nose.
Breathe out the smoke, and nothing’s to be seen,
except the rows of plastic bottles, -- blue and green,
creams and colognes that tower high above
the bathroom sink. They’ve never caught true love.
The smoky mirror hides your grim reflection
and now, none of your flaws remain...
Thus streetlights watch with warm affection
the puddles blurred by drops of rain.