Stepping on unsuspecting cracks whenever I can,
I catch a reflection of myself
In the elegant, glass-fronted antique furniture store.
It was the flicker of movement that caught my eye.
The image alternately elongating and contracting in rhythm with my own movement.
I turn to face the reflection,
In time to see the image suddenly shrink to a small squat echo of myself,
As if it had stretched out and touched something distasteful.
Standing there, with the winter sun low behind me
This mirror image of myself is just a featureless dark patch on the glass
The form blurring and dissolving at the edges into
Small diamonds of reflected sunlight
And around his head what looked like a small sparkling halo.
I glare at this reflection,
Wondering just who is this dark shadow being
Glaring back so wilfully.
I raise my arm,
The shadow echoes the gesture,
But his arm elongates, stretching out, seemingly to touch eternity.
I raise my right leg,
In unison the shadow raises his leg,
But his leg scrunches up into his body
Until his leg and torso become one
With just a small foot poking from the bottom.
In a sudden return to schoolboy naughtiness
I stick out my tongue at the image
He stares back at me sullenly.
Suddenly, I become aware of the people around me
Turning my head, I can see plainly the wonderment on their faces
The wonderment of just who is this madman
Standing on one leg
With his arm outstretched
Sticking out his tongue
At his reflection
In the window
Of the elegant, glass fronted antique furniture store.
Mudcrow
