He crosses my path
Like a sooty-furred cat
Wherever I go—
My imperfect clone.
He's the model of what
I might have become
Had my mother stinted
On oxygen
While I twitched in her womb.
My compromised copy
Is tall and paunchy,
Has irregular teeth
And a gaping mouth.
He dribbles and spits
Down the front of his shirt,
Half-tucked and half-buttoned
At best.
See him zombie-lurch
To the corner Starbucks;
See him wave to strangers
With a vacant stare;
Yet he's not imbecilic:
He's alert, motivated,
And self-assured,
So like him or not,
I must deal with this twinling,
Respect him and give him
A smile and a nod.
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