It is the mornings
When my hat sits askew
The top plate won’t quite fit
I get a sideways glance from the dogs
I am pretty sure
They kept my real body
And sent a clone home –
Sometimes my shoes seem to big
Or my belt to tight
Grab my **** to ***
And notice a new mole
It is these instances
I am pretty sure
The experiments ran long
And they were forced
Into a quick fix
I am just not always myself –
Sure, I have my memories
Smell similar
My wife loves me  
Cat rubs against my legs
But I can’t shake the feeling
My body is not my own
It is a loner
Sent from above
To keep up appearances
All the while
I lay on a slab
suspended in space
Getting a little extra prodding –