Stopped in my tracks, by the figure on the glass,
I wonder and stare with anatomic gaze
At a familiar shape but somewhat askew
That breeds within veins new coils of unease
Which wrecks all my networks of neurons in haste.
So I unleash my armory of old scales and tapes
And martial all photographic evidence of self
To puzzle me the name of the stranger in glass
Who gazes with fixated steel in its eyes
That drills all these holes on my sky.
Each time I measure, it shrinks another inch
And pukes a few balls of certificates slimed.