Doppelgänger

As I crossed the street this morning, on my way to catch the F train, I thought I saw you. I couldn’t help but look twice despite my initial certainty, much like how I snuck a second look down in Chinatown just off Canal street at the crumpled form in the doorway. I didn’t need a second look to confirm what the first quick glimpse already knew - that the man muttering from the entrance of that housewares shop was having a mid afternoon masturbating session and that I had just seen the unseeable, and saw it not once, but twice.

I thought I saw you today and it made me angry. It made me infuriated in a way I have not felt since third grade, when Wyatt , an unkempt and ungracious classmate stole the tire swing from me during morning recess even though it was clearly my turn. I beelined towards him, across the sand that was speckled with a spring snow, a snotty nosed Napolean determined to get what was rightfully mine. Wyatt didn’t see it coming, as I came up and deftly kicked him squarely in the nuts with my navy moon boots. I will never forget that incredulous look in his eyes as he moaned in pain, puncutuated shortely thereafter with his puking. Having two brothers, I should have known that a sack attack was a cardinal sin, but I was young still, and boys were just Ken dolls to me with their smooth compact plastic parts.

And so, I imagined myself doing the same thing- doing to you what you did in other ways, to me.Finding you, walking up to you and kicking you right in the balls only to saunter away just as quick as it occurred, leaving you there hunched over, wondering what the hell just happened.

I thought I saw you today, but it turns out it was just your Doppelgänger.