I Look Like Hell In That Mirror

[couchgrouch]

I Look Like Hell In That MirrorHe staggered to the restroom, of the old saloon that nightsaw his face in the mirror, in the harsh flourescent lightthough his five o'clock shadow, gave his wrinkles lots of shadeit couldn't hide the scars that, years of hard livin' madethat barfight in Nachez, left him with a busted nosethe birdfeet clawing his eyes, looked more like buzzards' than crows'and like a pack of Winston's, his eyes were mostly redhis words echoed off the tile, when he gazed down and said"I look like hell in that mirror and closing my eyes just makes it clearerand if I lean in and look closelymy face seems so pale and ghostlywhen I see myself I feel the end drawing nearerbecause Mister...I look like hell in that mirror"after chasing warm bourbon, with cold beer in that saloonchills and fever chased him, back to a cheap, dark roomhe could've made a bedsheet, with the cotton in his mouthbottle-rings on the nightstand, where he pulled the Good Book outsomeone there before him, dog-eared the book of Markand in that book's reflection, life seemed ruined and scarredbut when the light shines brightest, that's when ev'ry shadow showsso he whispered to himself, "that must mean heaven knowsI look like hell in that mirror and closing my eyes just makes it clearerand if I lean in and look closelymy face seems so pale and ghostlywhen I see myself I feel the end drawing nearerbecause Mister...I look like hell in that mirror"well, mem'ries always heal, when we mend our ways'long as he followed heaven's will, he never had to say"I look like hell in that mirror I look like hell in that mirror"(c)2006 Robert George