I dial Time of Day
just to hear voices
other than my own.
Nights empty.
No new exciting stars
on TV
or discovered by astronomers.
So much less space
to get lost in.
I might hire an extra
hand to hold for company
I can comfortably
afford to keep.
Meanwhile my double and I
chat in the mirror
where I meet myself
coming and going
crazy.
Shadows snuggle up.
They know what's safe
when the wind is wild
dancing with dust
collectors who talk
conversation pieces
into revealing their secret selves.
Suddenly an unruly rogue
gust putting on airs
of innocence sweeps in
like an uninvited guest
knocks over a lamp
grabs my pocket book
tearing out pages
in a jealous rage
and for no rhyme or reason
twirls them out
the open window.
