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the doubles
kara van de graaf
in the 1 room at macy's,
i run into all my old bodies.
we are reunited when i hear them
shuffling in the walls, sense them
beneath the dirty carpet. their hips
lurching out of drywall. their breasts
swelling against the concrete floor.
i congratulate one on her thin legs.
we 2 about side-boob.
we try on dresses from the junior's section
and laugh. relive our proms, our red-haired
date who cried the whole night
about that other girl. we kiss. arm-wrestle.
bitch-slap. wish we were never born.
when we part we look at each other longingly,
doe-eyed. the way two mirrors,
when you put them opposite, reflect
each other forever and ever.
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