Sometimes
I think I made you up
to satisfy some requirement
I couldn’t handle alone.
When I put my glasses on
I am you.
If that isn’t flaky enough,
today I found myself
wondering if it wasn’t me
who baked the pies
and brought them to the party.
There’s probably a name
for this sort of bologna
and it ought to scare me
but it DON’T.
I have also been:
my father
in his Italian dinner jacket
and a Pagan property
in a seafood restaurant
ordering “some of dis
and some of dat
and some of dose”
My only consolation
at times when I get out of joint
is knowing I am not alone.
Last Christmas Rupert
was a lizard in regressive evolution.
And you, long before we met
spent your time suspended
supporting the rush hour traffic
over the Delaware.
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