Reflections on a Hotel Bathroom Mirror

I get up early to shower. 

The bathroom is cramped, the mirror positioned 

so as to be unavoidable. 

I encounter my body,

Awkwardly, 

Like an old friend I should have texted back. 

“It’s good to see you,”

I say,

and smile thinly. 

We look at each other, 

Strangely. 

She’s changed, I think—

Maybe—I don’t know. 

I look for signs—

It’s been a while. 

“How are you doing?” 

We ask one another, 

And wait. 

She seems—I can’t tell. 

I feel, well,

Maybe, less, than I should. 

Things didn’t end well,

last we met eye-to-eye. 

I know I said 

Some bitter things

Neither of us can

forget that easily. 

I remember them,

When I see her. 

I’ve put layers between myself and her 

For a while, and now,

With my toes curling on cold linoleum,

I cannot avoid this meeting. 

She seems, fine. 

No, wait—she seems well. 

Hm. (I look a moment longer)

Maybe not. 

I can never really tell.