Stranger

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.