Beneath the streetlamp 
my shadow
lengthens as I tramp 
and grow
weary of getting there 
and I
could almost swear
it isn’t my
shadow at all
And beneath the night sky 
I fall
back and eye
that hurrying figure
I catch but cannot identify 
the snigger
that floats by
as from him or me
He has two left feet
He isn’t me
I retreat
into the park
and sit as I will
He melts into the dark
I wish him no ill

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