He stood in front of the mirrors –

that’s right, mirrors, as in “wrap

around.”  They came with the

condo. He thought to himself,

Don’t ever buy a condo with

“wrap around mirrors.”

Left, center, right. Straight on –

saddle bags under the eyes,

heavy with what – age?

To the left – side view of

bald strip, double chin.

To the right – side view of

bald strip, double chin, no

matter how much he strains

to straighten his jaw.

Left mirror

reflecting angled view

from right mirror –

more baldness wrapping

around.

Right mirror reflecting

angled view

from left mirror – more baldness

wrapping around –

more and more, all the way

around to the back

of his head – the English saddle

back of the head baldness

wrapping

around to eyebrows as

stirrups above

the saddle bags. Is he

ready to ride off into

the sunset of life?

Or maybe he is an ancient hybrid

fruit tree with an orange head

with a perfect crescent shaped

peel below the

peach fuzz on the front

of the top. He thought the little

patch

looked pretty full viewed

straight on.

He scanned down the trunk

to Luther Billis’ bra from

South Pacific and wondered if

there was milk inside those

coconuts. He shook the

trunk to the left and

to the right to see if the coconuts

would fall. Scanning 360 degrees of

old growth

he thought,

Gatty up, it’s time

to go to bed and whispered,

so as not

to wake his wife, “Timber,”

and wondered

if his crawl into bed could

be heard in

the forest.  The Chocolate Lab,

awake in the corner, thumped

his tail in approval of the man’s

presence

and the man said,

“Thanks, Bud; I knew there was a

reason

we rescued you,” and with that

the man patted

his wife’s butt and pulled the

covers up to his double chin

thrusting it out and

straining his neck muscles

to no avail.