Facing backwards on the train
to see the place I’ve been, again,
to meet the people facing me
whose eyes reflect what I can’t see.
The world behind is a surprise
that meets my back before my eyes,
and if I never turn around
I’ll never know what I have found.
He was once a real boy;
distinctly she remembered him
holding her hand and looking her in the eye.
These days, to gain his attention
she wore prescription 3D glasses
and sat in a life-simulating gaming chair;
unsure whether the blurred edges he exhibited
were the result of his stereoscopic obsession,
a definite change in generational perspective,
or the tears in her empty nest eyes.
Shattered mirrors may
provide useful perspective
on our fractured world.