Self-Portrait of Dating Mid-Twenties

I see my reflection on the sidewalk
as I walk to my car—the face of a fox
in a puddle of its melted body.
And then again in the electrical lines
as I drive to work—all tilted
after recent storms. There was a time
I stood taller—freshly built muscles
I sculpted, hair I straightened to match
expectations. I’ve grown bored of it all
& deflated: a balloon. Though superficially
loved, so easily and naturally let go. I’ve let
all my balloons go, too, to places
I’ve never aspired to reach. When I look
behind, autocorrect changes back
to Bach. Think of something else
instead, it urges, but when I get home,
the water in the toilet won’t stop flushing.
I’ve still loved one man the whole time
I’ve desperately tried to love someone else.

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