Instructions for Cleaning a Mirror

I have my secrets. I take my time, stare at my face until I’m a stranger, a she who is not me. A she who helps herself to whatever will buff the sharp edges of the world. Yesterday a yellow pill pinned the sun to the center of the sky where it remained unstained by clouds. Waiting for the bus, she danced to the thunder of drums from a car idling at a red light. A glass door gave her back herself, a whirling dervish in sneakers. If you drove by just then you’d think, now there’s a happy gal.

Photo Credit: Amaya Rodrigo