The woman said that she was me. She waved around a photo
of an out-of-focus face that could have been a goat.
I thought that I could have some fun. I said she could be me
if she wanted all the crap that life had kindly thrown me.
I told her I was wanted for disruptive verse in three surrounding counties,
and I was a most-wanted moll of my favorite gangster.
My bank account was negative, and creditors were calling.
Never mind arthritis, migraines, and me shrinking smaller.
If she wanted all of that, she was free to take it.
She ripped the fuzzy photo and then threw it in the trash,
saying she mistook me for a famous someone else.
published in Doctor Funny
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