Friday, January 07, 2011


This morning my bus, the number 8
met the number 24 at the corner.
And looking in the window I saw
the 24, reflected
pull away in the opposite direction
taking with it the inverted ghosts
of all its morning passengers.

And I felt her leave me, my left-handed self,
my sinister twin, riding the anti-8
in the window of the 24. She clutched
a nickel in her hand, Jefferson
facing right, rode away down 15th
to a destination I can't imagine.

I could have caught her hand and traded places--
one Alice for each side of the looking glass.
Ah, but she would have always wondered
why none of the chessmen would speak
and grieved for the absent flame and whiffle
of the Jabberwock.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside

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