by Chris Dollard

I watched my unknown twin
walk by me this morning in the rain
while I waited for the bus
under an umbrella, and boy,
was he rude, he didn’t even
acknowledge his cosmic double
in this crazy existential conundrum—
that mirrored me
just kept on walking down the street
without so much as a glance
over his shoulder.

Maybe this happens more often
than I remember or notice, maybe
I’ve been remembering to forget
and I’m only now becoming aware,
shocked in the thought of
here I am…but there I am too,
watching me walk away, mouth agape.

I felt like both of us were lost
in a Magritte painting,
and I wished that the other me
had an apple over his face
so I couldn’t recognize myself.

CHRIS DOLLARD was born in Montville, CT, and raised in South Kingstown, RI. His work has appeared in The New Verse News and The North Central Review. He is also the poetry editor for Shoreline, the Rhode Island College literary magazine, and lives in Providence.