When I peer into the mirror
(Clean clear glass on silver
A porthole into backwards-land)
I see a certain spice in our swirling eyes
Absent in those of the lonely
Cloves and cinnamon and vanilla
It shrouds us in its heavy fog
(We don't mind, we see not much
Past each others' eyes)
In the mirror, our arms are tangled
In a comforting, swaddling mess
Our heads are leaned together (a teepee)
And our smiles stretch around the world
But the mirror shows us backwards.
(Reverse, opposite, inside out, and outside in)
And I know that really, you lean away from me and frown.