The first one said he drank too much and left
For someone who drank more but held it better.
The second said he smelled of asphodel and ashes
And it made her sneeze.
The third one never showed
Though all the fairy tales said she would.
He thought he saw her reflection once
In the beveled edge of an antique mirror,
But the light changed as the door opened
And it disappeared.
It wasn't fair, he knew the rules,
He hadn't turned to look.
He waited to see her again, and waited,
Till everything shut down except the bars.
Through the filth, the beast came.
A thousand thousand eyes were on it.
It didn't hurt.
He told himself that made it right.
He polishes the marbles every morning.
He is obsessed with grit.
The first one met him on the street the other day
And said he looked good, clearer headed.
The second asked if he had changed
His brand of soap.
The third passed by unseen, unseeing.
On the beast, a thousand thousand miles away,
His eyes weep.