After that night apart I heard
the reports of witnesses
who saw you at the party with friends.
I imagine the room smelled of wet laundry.
The bedsheets had sand in them, the pillows
were without covers, and the zippers
chewed at your ear like another lover.
You passed out while a couple had sex
in the other bed. You told me this
only after a long silence, your words
a derivation of others', like the faded colors
of an albino species. If told with candor
and amusement I might laugh.
But you prefer your shadow-twin
to match the story with common knowledge.
You smile, as if into a mirror.
I am frightened by it, and when I reach out
to shake your hand I feel my own.