Like your double in a
beautiful city, leaving as you arrive
whom you never see make a place for you.
Like the haunted house
that's only hearsay, though you keep meeting people
who've seen it.
Like the snakes they
draped over you in lieu of leis,
like a weird Hawai'i whose windows you
looking in, will never look out of.
Like the breeze blowing
the gulls and the waves backward.
Like the will to set out in one direction and keep
Like changing your mind after reading an article.
As if your double,
drinking gin on a white terrace
elsewhere pays for everything.
poem by Ange Mlinko
published in Readme
art by Yang Fudong
from the MCA Denver site