A woman bends over me, Searching my reaches for what she really is.Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.I see her back, and reflect ...t faithfully.She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.I am important to her. She comes and goes.Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.In me, she has drowned a young girl, and in me, an old womanRises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish."Mirror" By Sylvia Plath (1932-1963)"Where am I? It is so dark! Why is it. You know lots of stuff, bein' a engineer an' all." You flatter me, little girl," I said. "I'm an electrical engineer. That's more of a mechanical engineer's thing."She smiled. "Yeah, but you know lots of stuff." You do, too, for your age. You pay attention." She did. I picked up that much from our conversations. "So," I asked, when's school start back up?" Two weeks," she said."Excited?" No, not really." She sighed. "I'm the outsider. Even for here, living in an RV park puts you on the outside.. More

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