PS Cottier

Not my cup of tea

Google doppelgängers

These other Mes are so athletic.

One plays rugby, knows scrummy secrets,

has pressed his face into smelly invisibility,

and walked the fat spider, laying one brown egg.

These other Mes have mazy businesses,

an eye for opportunity as I have not.

Invest wisely, reap their golden wheat

or fleece, exporting goods, or bads.

Do those other Mes look me up?

Perhaps they say ‘a poet, how very cute.’

Then return to muddy boots, or cruciate schemes,

and smile. Or think a rhyme, at least in dreams.