Searching for Myself
When I find myself
Behind the clusters of sofas
And worthless knick-knacks
You'll be the first to know
I see you frowning
At my reflection
But-of course- you keep looking
Upside down
There are rumpled cushions
Scattered about the plane
Of our combined
Coincidental existence
I am the ghost of the Present
And you? Who are you
This poem is about:
Me