Mirror-man

Mirror-man knocked on my door today, the glass in his face is framed with black drapes weighted with two heavy bags of sand, dragging a concrete block chained to his ankle. It is a miracle he gets up the deck stairs. But there he is. Of course, I invite him inside, offer him some brussels sprouts I am cooking.

He doesn't want the brussels sprouts. He wants what he wants, connection with people, so he says. Tells me how people are failing him, not doing what they should be doing; he expounds on their weaknesses. They should be doing what he's doing. This one is coddling that one, not healthy at all, he says. He talks about the shortcomings of others especially of his mother. He talks about the email I sent months ago; it still brings up ire in him. We have no space between us for talk back and forth.

He is a mirror. He comes to my doorstep to show me myself: I see the sand bags and the concrete block attached to the ankle are mine. My head is heavy with who did what when and ways to fix it. I drag the heavy resentments and anger and whodidit whens with little energy left for what's going on now, working myself into a corner.

Thank you Mirror-man.

I see I am Rolling in the river.