If we could change our faces,
As easily as rolling up a sleeve,
What mischief could be accomplished?
But perhaps a smile,
Rapidly shifting shapes—
Toothy, tight-lipped—
Can inflict damage worse.

Once a Man with a sneaky thought,
Pounced on a passerby in the night.
Shouts cut the air as they fought,
Until the alley floods with light.

A piercing voice shouts, “Stop, you cur!”
Both participants freeze in shock.
Behold the pink petticoat and Scottish burr,
The beauty of a Woman wielding a rock.

“Truly?” cried the would-be robber,
Cackling and thinking himself blessed.
He strikes down his victim with a clobber,
Before turning attention to his Scottish guest.

They each regard the other with hidden glee;
The Man darts forward with raised fists,
The Woman dodges and maneuvers a knee,
Knocking the Man down in the most surprising of twists.

The Woman brushes off her skirt with a grin.
Walks to the fallen victim, who stands brightly,
Pocketing the Man’s wallet, she laughs, “‘Tis a true win!”
The pair saunters off, a vision most sightly.

Blah, blah, boopity, blah.
Would you care to elaborate?
Spoken words with no meaning.
Amusing, the lies you fabricate.

Lifting the bricks to reveal
Earthy soil speckled with:
Pebbles, glass, earthworms—
A subterranean world unleashed.

Smoky air drifting in the breeze,
The scent of dead wood and leaves
Clinging to every fabric.
A crackling fire warms the heart.

From the clutter and junk
A vision appears vaguely,
The garden lying in the wake
Of rubble and disuse.

I stand at an intersection and
         my perception distorts for half a second.
Whether it’s the sight of the storefronts,
or the familiar rush of traffic,
the smell of sizzling concrete,
or the voices of passersby,
         I know I’ve been here before.
And I like to think
         about my doppelganger,
         no doubt being a rockstar
         in a parallel world running
         alongside me.