A Thousand Mirrors

A Thousand Mirrors

His breath smells horrid,
What has he been drinking?
Does he know or even care he smells this bad?

His sallow complexion barely hides
The evidence of deep scarring blemishes
His clothes are bargain basement fare.

Yet here I am,
In a place that reeks of everything fried,
With my arms around this hideous creature
Swaying to a thousand mirrors of reflected light.

I can’t be that desperate,
I can’t stand this person
If there were a catalogue of men,
He would be the last one I’d pick.

I politely excuse myself
And go into the ladies' room
To have a good cringe
And attempt to wash his scent off me.

Glancing back before I make my exit,
I see him at the bar
Chatting up the pudgy waitress
With too much makeup and infected eyebrow piercing

I look up at a thousand mirrors of reflected light
And leave with my soul intact.