ME, MYSELF NOT I

It would be so much easier
if I had a twin brother,
and not merely a doppelganger.

Doppelgangers are nice enough
but they are never around
when you most need them
and the refuse to take the blame
for your actions, although
they are willing to blame you
for theirs, an ugly imbalance.

Idential twins have advantages
if you can bend them
to your will, for there are
many things that you
cannot avoid but wish to,
and who would know if you
sent your twin in your place.

But you could be that twin
always going to things
your twin wanted to avoid,
so maybe it is best to be you,
at least people know
you or who they think you are.

ONE OF US? NEVER!

I now live among birds, and they
accept me, listen to me endless complaints,
and never demand I cease kvetching.

I know they speak about me behind
my back, but they are kind, and generally
do not remind me of my shortcomings,

no doubt certain I am all too well aware
of my failings, and they remind me they have
their own problems, a shrinking

environment, water and air that only
we might drink or breathe willingly,
and when I object to their complaints,

when I say that I am not the one
to blame, they seem to laugh, and say
perhaps so, for we birds have much

in common with you, no one wants
to listen to us complain, and you do
all look pretty much alike to us.

THE SON

He hangs on the guest room wall,
simply framed in black, adjoining
his more ornate, Cheshire-
cat smiling sister. He isn’t brooding
really, there is just a certain needful
sadness, as he stares out, imagining
how he pictured things would be,
how they were supposed to be,
realizing here, they never were,
never will be, and although there is
no failure, no blame, he wears it
as his personal armor, still
so easily pierced by dreams.