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.