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Each morning he rises, showers,
shaves naked in the mirror,
his skin pearled in spherical droplets
that shimmer to the floor.
Before he disappears into the day
the mirror photographs his flesh,
develops what likeness is possible
in a one dimensional reflection.
Will he return, Apollo of the new world,
or will the day simply wash itself against him
until his whole shimmering body,
the body cast in the morning mirror turns to sculpture?