A tradition in Modern American Poetry since 2005. Please visit my companion site, www.virtualpoetryreading.com and listen to some poetry.
Published on September 26, 2007 By Buddah Moskowitz In Poetry
I’m staring down the mirror
and neither of us
is blinking

“I see through you”
I think

I continue staring
half-hoping I’ll find
someone else
without the mundane imperfection
of moles and pores
stray gray hair
and engraved wrinkles
that stay long after the
laughter has died

and what of this mouth
keeper of secrets and teller of lies
and those sad date eyes?

suddenly I want to do away with him

and my rhinoceros nostrils flare
as I clench my jaw
and we begin the contest
to prove
who can hold his breath
the longest

his face becomes red
but I push myself past slight fear
into gentle internal hysteria

my suffocation from within
is taking its toll on my competitor
as his body starts quivering
and his face becomes an
unpleasant crimson

I push myself more
more
and one more second
just one more
as I see him
clutch the bathroom basin
I hear the voice
“don’t give up,
one more second!

Don’t let him win!”

just one more…

Then
PFFFHHWWT!
out blasts
a mouthful of stale air
as my knees buckle
and my face changes
red to pink to brown

and I giggle helplessly
at my lightheadedness

leaning forward
face to face with the mirror
still panting and laughing
I offer my vanquished foe
the only consolation
I can think of:

“Happy Birthday, Schmucko.”

Comments
on Sep 26, 2007
haha...Yeah, happy birthday Shmucko! And maaaaaany moooooore....

(my mom turned 80 yesterday, too)
on Sep 27, 2007

listen to buddy wakefields "convenience stores".

That's a beautiful man...in every way.

Trinitie

on Sep 27, 2007
Happy B-day Buddah.
on Sep 27, 2007
A battle of wills uh?!

Happy birthday Mr. Moskowitz! There's a JUBC for you on my blog-Enjoy!
on Sep 28, 2007
Happy Birthday Buddah!

I love your annual birthday poems.
I wish you many, many more happy years.
on Oct 01, 2007
Excellent, as always sir. I hope you had a very happy birthday and captured the bastard youth who stole all your years, even if only for a moment in the mirror.