I am the smoker at the bar lost in the fumes of my cigarette. Out back by the trash cans where I can’t pollute anyone else with my filthy habit.
I don’t know quite how to say it. It’s hard to explain. I saw the way you looked at him. And it caught me. I recognized the look. At first I couldn’t place why. Was it a look you had given me? A look you had flashed at others in my presence? Not that. It wasn’t betrayal I felt. It wasn’t ownership towards the grin on your face, the stretch of your eyebrows. Not the feeling I had been had.
I recognized the worn of the look. I recognized the sentiment. I felt the shallowness of your look. I rocked back on my heels. The wind was blowing and I was freezing and I wanted to be nowhere else but 30 paces in front of where I was but I planted my heels and let that look bounce around in the richness of my memory banks. Looking for the familiar slot.
I know that look.
I’ve felt that look on my own face. The pull of the corner grin and the strain in the back of my eyes.
And I was reminded again of our sameness. Of this foil character I have found. I sense your shadow on the other side of the mirror. Our reflections running parallel.
“Found on out forgotten where to hide”