SKYPE PORTAITS

Tuesday, March 31, 15

 
I wait and wait and look into the monitor, 
looking searching
for some recognition.

But I also look for some resemblance, 
do we look alike, 
are we related. 

Am I manufacturing a connection?

Yes, we came from 
the same egg 
the same sperm – 

We were together for almost nine months then three years.
 
A while back,
I talked to a twin couple, I could tell them apart – even though they were identical. 

We talked about you – your being a part me and me being alone in my twinness.
They seemed to understand. 
Two individuals bound at birth.

And the Sunday we Skyped

Your hair slicked back,sideburns bushy and wild. 
I could imagine 
a pack of cigarettes rolled up into your white t-shirt sleeve,
your jeans hung down just so.

No, that was an image of my cousin, 
but for a moment,
for a slice of a moment,
I could see him, 
a life he led independent from mine.

 But no, 
probably his reality was more like the black and white images
from Diane Arbus.

Out of range out of focus now.

But somehow,  
we touched otherwise you wouldn't even be a memory.

And somehow I can't let you go.

Seeking resolution

to knowing you,
and not knowing

if you know me or if you even know.

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