A cracked mirror

A cracked mirror

Looks back

From behind a row of optics,

Cheap blends

Generic labels

Topped with ethanol

For the stocktake,

Blinking

Through a haze of desperation

Lazy eyes have left a lasting impression

Sad sacks and blow-ins

Glance slyly at one another

Surreptitiously

Calculating

An angle of incidence

Estimating the chances

Of a connection

Brushing them off

With a shrug

Believing nobody will notice

Glancing away

Before eye contact is made

Afraid of a consequence

Not a rebuff,

As that is a given,

But a nod of recognition,

A permission

To bridge the divide

Between reflection

And a ray of light

Channelling Medusa

Hunching tired shoulders

Narrowed

From an imaginary weight

Hunkering down

Ever closer to the bar

Stone-faced

Inspecting the wood

Tightly grained highly

Polished

With an inlay of elbow grease

And the hopelessness

Of a confessional

Worn smooth

From sleepy heads

So many sad eyes

And bleary smears

Building character

Under a smoke-stained

Ceiling

Hidden by low lighting

And stuffed animals

So many

Untouchables

Drinking alone

Going home feeling worse

Than they did

Before they stepped out

Failing to grasp

What the fuss is about

When darkness falls

Fully clothed

In a heap on the floor

Realising too late

It is in the waking

That they will behold

The true meaning

Of loneliness

Is not in the word

But in the context

Of its repetition