Hard to pin down the angles
the sky and clouds such obvious reflections
as I lean out over my still mirror

can it be me there
a callow youth with curly hair?

a finger breaks the surface
where the water-boatman
glides effortlessly
his small spacecraft of a body
Slung on the water's tension

piercing my reflection
the boatman rows purposefully away

there's a fish down there, goggle eyed
thinking my finger a fat maggot

Frightened by the ripple it darts aside
and I am left with my mirror
uncertain which way to go
who to follow or what to say
just an Echo falling in love
with a mirage beside a shady bank