Was it merely coincidence
That brought them to this place today?
Nothing else would seem to make sense,
Except for tricks the mind might play.
And when their eyes met, they both knew
That they'd become targets of fate:
Irises the same shade of blue,
Sharing the same hair, same height, same weight.
Dead ringers in every way,
A coincidence beyond chance.
Dopplegangers, as Germans say,
Full and total body transplants.
In clothes, too, similarity,
The exact same necktie and shirt.
Even taste was at parity,
The soup stain and the spots of dirt.
Was it mutual attraction,
Bidding this friendship to begin?
Or just a trick of refraction,
From the mirror the drunk looked in?
© Richard McCusker