no such thing / but thinking of it renders it possible
altered clone, just so you can have one
but they come in pairs like souls according to Plato
one in the mind / one in the vase / depending on
your answer / depth of your concept of self:
whether it exists elsewhere
did you really see your future on my face
or did you simply see your past?
dear daffodil, we should go our separate ways
we should talk to other people
who don’t know us at all
we should count our losses / recount them in narrative form
I am not what you expected / in the real world, you’d perish
just a flower dyed over by the queen of hearts / cups dripping black paint
though it should suit the nuns rather than the queen,
who should be leaves / spades / swords for the nobility who got lazy later on
but we are hardly idle and that is one of the reasons we’re leaving
we ignored the borders between us because
you cannot manifest me / unless I manifest you
but I’m tired of being your prototype for
daffodil daydreams, derailed by my life indigestion
I can no longer pick those flowers
but I could still pick myself from a crowd, that counts
so we merge, it’s not realistic
(and I still hate people who choose to be realistic)
but the gaping distance between us is covered
