Though twenty years had passed, I knew you
at once
as a double knows the star, and when I shook your hand,
you stared, I thought, as if we'd struck a bargain, family now
or as much
as not--a dream
as strange
as the brief one-off
to see my image grown.
The skinny man
our mother married
held a shotgun
on the deputy
who came
to repossess the car--the way conjecture handed me
to her, then took me back
for default
of payment due. She lost the car,
but kept the second child. His picture was a mirror made
of film. As only right, both halves
of brothers added up
to two.
