He sees me.
The stranger looks deep,
deeper Into me
than I see myself and analyse and care to critique the way
that I'm conducting myself.
He's harsh with his eyes
but
He doesn't know me.
scrutinizing every pore
every hair that stands in place,
every conscious thought and un-thought.
He thinks he doesn't
But he does.


Like a whirlpool of judgement that swirls in a silver reflection, I stare at the man that stares at me.
he seems familiar and now I judge him.
the table turns to see myself
staring at this silvery
this...
this...
Imposter
that
I think
that
I know.