poetry by Dan Leicht (D.e.e.L)
“Who are you?”
I say to the man in the mirror.
he looks back at me puzzled. wondering
why i would ask such a simple question.
“I’m the writer,” he replies. a notebook by his side.
today i was supposed to be the writer. but lost.
trapped by distractions, television and food.
games delayed and then forfieted. i lost.
i was to be the writer but let nothing stop me.
how could i trap a character in the mirror? he watches
writing the story wrong, backwards, laughing
as he writes the ending in a happy resolution. you fool.
happiness doesn’t inspire enough hope. you fool.
the pen is on the other side of the reflection.
i’m the reason for the laughter, if only just today, but surely not tomorrow. i’ll walk out to the balcony. slide the glass door. open the notebook with the bumper sticker plasted across the black and white cover and write an action scene.
he’ll stand up from his drink at the bar half finished. slug
one, two, three chumps before sitting back down to finish
the door will be locked and i’ll be stuck out there all day.
asking myself who this character is and what he’ll do next.