I see myself everywhere.
There I am coming out of the laundromat,
Though I'm much heavier
And wearing my glasses.
My mousy-brown looks dark and straight
In contrast to the bleached, permed ends.
I walk to my trailer, beaten and tired,
And meet myself going.
Tired eyes meet tired eyes,
And for a second she recognizes, too.
But---
No, it couldn't be.
-jenn long
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