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I caught a glimpse in the mirror
As our limbs were tangled and writhed
And I saw that our skin’s become heavy
Like folds in a mountain side
The old dresser photos were rattling
Our two young faces in frames
And I stared and I wondered if they wondered too
Who’d be first to look away
Will we come to know this feeling,
My old lover, my old friend,
Come to know it like the backs of our hands
Or to know it like some secret place
Where you go to start again?
This twilit room cupped our bodies
Like a river wound in a ball
The upstream and down kissed at the creases
Our north become south become lost
Will we come to feel this, knowing,
My old lover, my old friend,
That all those little histories that we tend
To covet oh so dearly can’t come with us in the end
I caught a glimpse in the mirror
Of two old hands in repose
And they stared and they wondered if I wondered too
Just who will be first to know
If we’ll come to be so willing
My old lover, my old friend,
To know each other like the backs of our hands
And still go down to that secret place
When we need to start again
