If there was another me
he would be a drummer.
If there was another me
he would be married.
If there was another me
he would still be a he
but would undoubtedly be more successful
more brave
more thinner
but just as bald.
Baldness just runs in my me-ness.

Another me would not be so mean
nor prone to anger.
He would be red-faced with pleasure
but not well-read-faced
when playing poker.
He’s got somebody.

I think another me would live in Brooklyn,
maybe in Red Hook
with a cool daughter
who’s into tech.
Another me might still be into bands, myself,
even though we’ve aged out of that kind of stuff.
Another me is probably wiser than me,
though he might be younger.
He certainly looks younger.
Better built.

Has he taken a lover?
He’s gotten offers.
Had to.
Probably from trans-sexual CFOs
of international trading conglomerates
or pirate spies
(I don’t really know why pirates would need spies
or spies would have pirates
– maybe international trading conglomerates
need spies to pirate software?
That could be something)…
Another me has the chance to get around
but
another me doesn’t have much of an imagination.
he doesn’t need to.

Another me doesn’t spend so much time in his head.
He’s planted right here on terra firma
with his family
and his drumkit
and his poker pals
in Brooklyn.