I think that I once met myself
upon the roadside coming back.
So sure was I that it was me
I almost had a heart attack.

Another time I thought I saw
myself reflected in a pane
of glass upon a garden skip.
It almost served to drive me sane.

Then there was that occasion when
I found beside me in my bed
a doppelganger of myself.
Was I alive?  Or was I dead?

How can I know what lies in store
except by taking one step more.
One step to face in the unknown
what I had mastered heretofore.

But possibly this other me
is simply also hesitant
and also chooses to ignore
what really is self-evident.

I’m waiting for the day, you see,
when opening a door, I pass
into a room where bygone me
is stepping through a looking glass.