I find myself waving back at myself
so I guess this must be a dream
I am stood in a driveway with my shirt untucked
looking for all the world like a sore loser
waving at the only man I can trust with my secrets
and the one I despise almost viscerally
a light rain is falling, dimpling the blood red dust
myself waves back with a wry smile
like someone pulling a rabbit out of a hat
it is pointless to speculate what the two of us are thinking
but there is a family stood in the middle of the street
doing just that
gazing slack-jawed at the spectacle
of me waving back at me all robe and slippers
a car speeds by and blasts its horn shrill as principle
a puppy whimpers and squirms in the little girl’s arms
as the mother ferries her future to the kerb
hissing at me like the villain and his sidekick
the little girl seems to have mistaken me
for that man yelling empty promises three nights ago
from the door of a purring taxi two doors down
he wore cheap gabardine that winked in the moonlight
and seemed to have left his kind self in a mirror somewhere