The Original Variety Show
Double trouble it is:
us and them, me and you,
always two, babbling
like fission-cloned copies
of bickering circus clowns.
There is no two as we both claim.
There is no perpetually singing duo.
There is only what we are--
layers of grit, and stone, and stars,
one on one, on one, on one.
(This poem first appeared in ZeBook Magazine)