Behind the Glass

Hazy and clouded, the thick air

Barely gives way to let me see.

Looking into the fogged up mirror,

I can scarcely make out the details

Of the face looking back.

If that's supposed to be me,

Then what the hell am I?

As I make the daily vanity ritual to inspect myself

Through this shimmering plinth

I'm left to wonder -

Behind the glass, what does this other guy do

When I'm not looking?