Double Jeopardy

He started merely as a stand-in.

Though he parted his hair differently

he could easily pass for me.

No one seemed to notice.

In the beginning, so long ago,

he stepped in when

I just couldn’t cope,

or when things got especially dicey.

And yes, I was using him.

If you were to look closely,

the main difference between us

is his appearance of confidence.

That’s when you know

its him and not me.

At first it felt like fun.

Sending him in on dates

I was particularly inhibited by

or interviews for jobs

I was, frankly, unqualified for,

but still had my own ambitions.

But just because he looks

like me doesn’t make him me.

After so many years, even I

can barely tell us apart.

That’s when the dreaming

really began.

Dreams more real than not.

Am I dreaming his dreams or mine?

I even discussed them with a doctor,

how the dreams were growing

more real, more vivid

than anything I did in the daylight.

It was as though I had begun

to live two separate lives:

a nightlife and a day life.

And then there’s this half-life

In which I am furiously writing

in a notebook at 4:00 AM

while he still lays sleeping

drugged by two perilously pink Benadryl

So that I could have this time

to tell my truth.

It may be the only time

I’m sure I’m still myself.

When I think about my double,

I feel that I am not alone.

I’m sure there are others with doubles

going about doing

so discreetly

what needs to be done.

It is entirely too easy to continue

on a path that gradually divides

us and almost as impossible to stop

using him as I do

If only because I’ve begun to grow

tired. I’m barely up to things

generally and the game may be

draining, even zapping my stamina.

Now, the only time I feel at peace

is at times like this at early twilight,

the time before the dawn

over-takes the dark.

I wonder what he would think

if he knew I was writing this.

Trying to separate and further

distinguish myself from him.

After joining and merging

for what seems like a whole lifetime

like an old married couple

who still insist on their individuality.

Last year we acquired a cat

after our beloved dog died.

My dear Phoenix could tell

the difference between us.

He knew who was who.

So much for dogs being dumb.

The cat couldn’t care less

which one is me.

It was the heart attack

that nearly killed us both

save that he grew stronger

while I languished in spirit

let alone body.

It caused a further split

and he simply took over,

as my will was weakened

mourning the near loss of me.

While he continued…better for it;

my history in his pocket

like so much spare change.

And so he spends his time as me.

But now, lately, I’ve been 

gaining strength again

in small moments where

I insist on taking charge.

Quick aside:

The blinkering xmas tree lights

are making the cat nauseous. 

I really do love her.

The light is coming up.

I may not be able to sustain

this clarity. He’s sure to

want to take it from here.

What if he wants me out 

of the picture? But why?

When our perfect game

has seen us both through so many scrapes?

He’s sure to wake soon.

He’ll want my life back.

How absurd that sounds.

That I may no longer know which

is the double.

So let’s sort through this.

Which of us is stronger?

Who’s confidence is more alarming?

Who’s might be more refreshing? 

What if I’m fooling myself?

What does it say that I’ve

allowed him to live all this time as me?

When he plainly has his own

mysterious motivations.

Which of us has more consciousness?

Right now it’s me. 

Which of us is more loving?

I believe in God.

He believes in himself.

He knows how to get what he wants.

I don’t really. But I think

getting what you want

isn’t always the best thing.

I’m careful for what I want

while he wants everything.

I hear him stirring.

Peter Valentyne

November 2018