the brown spot of 2016

there it was, staring back at me

from the foggy morning mirror.

I wiped the glass clean for a closer look

thinking it might be a smudge, or a little bruise

from that frantic handball game at the racquet club,

or maybe a venial sin which lost its way to the soul,

or a never before seen item. and why not? It happens

with dinosaur bones in New Mexico, and certain particles

like Quarks or the Higgs Boson.

damn it! there it is, below the temple

just above the zygomatic process. the brown spot!

the mirror’s telling me something,–– or God,

who by all accounts should be busier than chasing me around. 

I'm in the ozone of the here and now during closing arguments,

as naked and damp as Adam save for the brown spot made in my image!

damn! that's it. the brown spot! I’m done for.