I have stood in front of mirrors 

enough to make a history.

To know who I see is not 

who has been nor will be.

Like all histories, the facts

are joined to stories

that dip in and out of time,

dreams and memories,

that awakening reality the oxymoron 

of existence.  Sometimes it’s hard

to say, acknowledge who I see reflected

is me.  I know, though, if eyes look into eyes

sometimes what is concealed is revealed –

for a moment,

                 longer,

                          for a lifetime

another mirror passed by.

Hootism:  there’s a reason silence is golden