I feel the sun’s kisses on my back

as I walk in tranquility through the park,

when I see accusing twin barbed eyes

burrowing and stabbing into my soul.

You can’t be me – step out of my mirror

I have no twin although you’re a xerox

But in my heart, I know I’m the writer

of your rhythm and part of your reflection.

You walk toward me in worn out socks

“You’re not me!” I scream, “I want to be free.”

I deny to my image that we’re one and the same

as her heavy anchors weigh me down with chains

I am an only child, but deep down in my core,

I know we have the same thoughts,

walk the same walk, products of same mold

used to shape us in the same image.

I cry in sorrow searching for explanation -

I’m not a carbon copy, a blip of nothingness -

don’t want this glass prison with her as cellmate

She’s not an ocean like me but a mountain

dead of winter night, an undertone of me.

I shake my head, trying to escape

but everywhere I look I see copies,

lined up and ready to take my place.

Oh no! They’re all clones of me from same cells

mindless product of a mad scientist,

breathing on own but attached at my hip.

I must make the best of this and figure out

how to take advantage of multiple clones.

I send them to work at my job,

use their bodies as spare parts when needed.

I use them to fill my marital bed

when I want affairs with someone else.

I am not defined by clones - I strive to be free

I am one of a kind, just let me be me!

She sat on the slim edge of the park bench in the only spot the birds hadn’t tagged yet, twisting her fingers around a damp cloth. It was going on 2:15. She risked a glance around. A woman in her mid-forties, sweating in too-tight jeans and long-sleeves, Denise looked out of place among the young moms pushing strollers.

She wore too much makeup. If she painted herself just right, she thought she might come alive. She told him that once and he grabbed her nose and twisted it so hard she screamed. He laughed and called her Pinocchio as strings of vomit flew from her chin.

She had been pretty, but now pins held her together, her teeth were chipped and yellowed, and old bruising dappled her cheekbones. The real damage was beneath. Two days ago, he’d broken ribs on her left side, kicking her in the armpit while she lay on the kitchen floor.

Now 2:30, she worked the cloth harder and her right wrist resisted. He smashed that one with a frying pan last year, using the edge like a hammer. She touched her phone just as she saw a woman approaching, with a familiar walk. Her skin was milky-white, unblemished.

As she came closer, Denise realized the woman’s face was a younger version of her own. She said, “Denise, give it to me.” Denise rose, walking two paces to stand nose to nose with the woman, looking into her own eyes. She took a deep breath and crossed the final step, merging.

She hadn’t needed a hitman after all. When it was done, Denise had carved the snake tattoo off his neck with his own buck knife. She kissed the wrinkled wet skin now and placed it in the dirt, grinding it under her heel and left.

Murder or suicide?

I literally laugh out loud at the joke no-one but me will ever know.

Except, my wife of course.

Callous bitch she is.

She suggested it.

And I love her all the more for it.

Vixen.

Temptress.

Genius.

Not the sort of genius who invents time machines. That’s the ‘me’ kind of genius.

No. She’s the sort of genius who thinks up a nice little plan to put a time machine to use.

For the good of mankind of course.

As in ‘this man’ and his ‘kind’ sweet wife.

Excuse me while I laugh out loud again, sarcastically.

I max out my life insurance.

She sets the time.

She sets the place.

She gives me the gun.

I don’t know where or when, but I arrive and do the deed.

Future 'me' never sees it coming.

We began the dance out 

  in the park 

     under the trees

It only took a glance for her 

  to notice me 

      and freeze

I felt the fear trickle

  icy cold 

     down her spine

Wasn't that a tear? 

  Did she know 

     she would be mine?

She turned around and fled 

  and I cut her off quick

I could read inside her head and 

     I know I made her sick

The closer that I drew, 

  the weaker she became

The fear inside her grew and 

     I reveled in the game

It came as a surprise that 

  she'd already 

     figured it out

Didn't think she was wise enough

  to know what

      I'm all about

I realized how much fun all this 

   cat and mouse

       play could be

She knew her time had come 

   but still she fought 

      to be free

Around and round we chased 

    and I laughed 

        while she cried

Tears running down her face 

   as the poor thing 

       tried and tried

Can't escape the doppelganger 

   coming for you

It's time to face your fate 

   and accept that

      you are through.

"Wouldn't have thought to find myself here".

I look up from the railing, a wry smile teasing the corners of my mouth as I approach.

    "Har har. Enjoy it while it lasts", I produce a crushed croissant from the bulging plastic bag at my feet and proffer it. I take the pastry and join myself in leaning against the wrought iron, the upturned beaks below turn expectantly.

    I settle into a companionable silence, punctuated by the frantic honks and splashes that greet each of my stale offerings.

    The bag of bakery seconds slowly empties, my shadows stretch over the canal to the lawns beyond. I play shadow puppets on the last few sunbathers.

    "This was nice", I think to myself.

    "I agree", I say aloud.

    "See you again soon?". 

I smile.

    "You know where I live". 

The park fades.

The sunbathers, the swans, the lawns, the wrought iron railing...

I open my eyes, I'm alone in my room again.

Well, nearly alone.

She came up to me and said she was I

The outlandish proposal took me by surprise

She looked so sad and lonely regret filled her eyes

So I told her she could not be I

She said oh but yes yes it is true

I look bad on the outside but inside so do you

I cried and yelled claiming it was a dream

But no one seemed to care when I screamed

She told me and told me once and again

That it was true my happiness was at an end

I believed her I'm sorry I thought it was true

But it's not no one can truly mirror you

Mirrorlike sages

burning bridges

dissolving churches

building builders

with coin tails

and fast paces

past erasers

cosmic fighters

firestarters

collapsing stages

of easygoing performers

truth enhancers

connection engineers

non-human talkers

esperanto whisperers

blackened waiters

darkened waters

dampened noises

bleeding colors

painting nurses

with healing noises

oh those fuckers look just like us.

Screeching tires

with backfires

looking flawless

seedless vampires

biting canines

spiting waterfalls

in deep forests

hiring fairy labourers

and centipedes

as construction workers

for train stations

for their next invations

for their rising nations

of mirrorlike soldiers

with arithmetic gestures

in their faceless conventions

of guarding constellations

from human hands

trying handstands

in moon rocks

with blisters in wisdom eyes

blinding sights

stocking lights

in railways tracks

carrying sacks

filled with bats

and rats

and venomous critters

but oh, those fuckers look just like us.

     I was talking my collie in the park when I came upon this woman. I stopped and stared and she stared back at me. How could there be a carbon copy of me? Impossible.

    "Why are you staring?" she asked.

    Should I tell her she is as beautiful as my dog? Hesitating, I said, "Have you always been a honey blond?"

    "Skip the honey," she said and drew an object from her pocket. She pointed a pistol. "Hand over the dog," she said.

     That's how I lost my pedigreed pup. 

      I told the police. "She shouldn't be hard to find. She is the spitting image of me."

      So I'm in the psycho ward, and the shrink is asking me, "Why do you want to get arrested?"

      I weep and pull my hair. To escape this hellish inquisition, I tell the shrink. "I was walking in the park. Alone. I don't have a dog."

     The shrink whispered something to the officer. I was released, but warned "not to walk in the park."

      Should he meet my spitting image, I hope he throws the book at her. 

The smell of fresh grass lingered.  Rays of sunshine peeked through the trees.  There's nobody in the park except me, as always.  People are too busy going about their stuff to stop and enjoy what nature has to offer.  

I just got a full scholarship to one of the most respected universities, so I am busy.  But I always squeeze some time for the park in my tight morning schedule.  I pulled out my study guide for the test this morning when out of the corner of my eye, I see a girl with black hair, I put down my papers to take a better look at her.  She's tall and slender, she wears a white shirt and gray sweatpants.  I've definitely seen her somewhere.  I was about walk to her when she turned around and I realized why she looked so familiar.  

She's me.

_____________________________________________________________________

I gasped, I was wearing the same outfit!  My jaw dropped.  The other girl looked surprised for a second, but then started to walk towards me.

"I'm Anastasia," the girl nodded.  

"What?!  I'm Anastasia!" I was shocked.  I was an only child and I will always be one.  The girl shrugged.  There's something very wrong here, she's not even surprised!  That's when I noticed that she was holding a baseball bat.

"You play baseball?" I asked suspiously.  

"No," the girl had tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked.  "Why are you crying?"

"I'm sorry, Anastasia.  I'm sorry."  Then she swinged the bat at me.  

I felt my knees go weak and my vision blurred.  Who is she?  Why is she doing this?

My eyelids droop, but I must stay conscious!  That girl's not me!  She's not anyone.  There's no such person.

I love people watching, especially on a lazy Saturday afternoon. As I saunter through Famer’s Park I play out that ’ole game of filling in their lives with my own kooky ideas.

40-something scraggly looking male wearing a zipped up coat in the Florida heat; he’s hiding the fact that he’s {only} wearing the 2016 Spring Edition Victoria Secret Sultry Red Basque underneath. He doesn’t just feel seductive, he *knows* he is.

30-ish drop dead gorgeous blonde wearing an expensive looking workout ensemble; she’s a Physics major who is hell bent on becoming immortal by disproving the mathematical constant Pi. She thinks it’s 3.142.

5’8”-ish male, can’t see his face yet, long hair… oddly patchy whiskers… same exact clothes as I’m wearing, that’s odd... there are other people I could look at but I can’t seem to turn away from this person as he gets closer turning his head forward… oh it’s me.

“Wait, it’s me?!” I said out loud, or I should say we *both* said out loud.

Both raising our right arms in unison we point at each other, “what are you,” we asked each other at the same exact time following an identical tempo, cadence and pitch.

As we step closer to each other static is not only felt but visible between us, like tiny electrified spider webs where one end touches him and the other touches me. Even our hair seems to stand up on end in an invariable fashion.

My mind wrestles; we’re not moving as mirror images but copies of one another.

The current between us progresses to grow; the thickness of the energy field starts to hurt my eyes, a sudden flash…

I’m abruptly standing in an altogether white room. Over a crackly loud speaker I hear “uh… that wasn’t supposed to happen.”