when the time of day is a gadfly
i see my shadow, unattractive as a can of beans
and think, this is me.
this is what i look like.
when the sun is an ass-kisser
i see my shadow, tall as a cigarette
and think, that is her.
that is what i’m supposed to look like.
still, how strange it is
mornings i find my own breasts
and they feel rounder than my belly.
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