Apparition

Each morning there's a stranger
in the bathroom, watching
me shave while he stands shaving
from his safe distance, just
behind the shiny surface
of the looking-glass.

I haven't yet grown accustomed
to his intruding presence;
I rather wouldn't make
that man's acquaintance, though
there's something quite familiar
in his awkward ways.

By now I recognise
his silly countenance:
unprepossessing, cheerless,
looking daft and grey,
always in the bathroom
when I start my day.