I am looking for somebody.
Someone I’ve met, someone I knew.
Or have glimpsed through a window of a bus,
a passerby, with blue opal eyes
like ice on fire,
and a kind, militant heart.
And I see him in the multitudes,
I see him in the few, I see him in you –
my mind sticks to this image
like glue,
all the details seem to be
so perfect, so genuine, so true,
like fragments of
the man
I am searching for
are magnified, shining pennies
in a crook, a politician, or a fool.
A drunkard seemed to do,
when he had the essence
of you.
They all seem to be you.
Then the mirror cracks
and I am left gazing
at a wall, a blank canvass,
a lie,
until I find another duplicate
of you.
If I ever see you,
would I mistake you
for a fake
too?
Another carbon copy
of you?
As I took all your doubles
as originals,
would the original be
like a double too?
I am tired of looking
for you.
You find me,
Mr Blue.
© Milana Vujkov, Carbon Man, 2011
Poets, Mavericks & Prophets 