Only one of me and nobody can get a second one from a photocopy machine. Nobody has the fingerprints I have. Nobody can cry my tears, or laugh my laugh or have my expectancy when I wait. But anybody can mimic my dance with my dog. Anybody can howl how I sing out of tune. And mirrors can show me multiplied many times, say, dressed up in red or dressed up in gray. Nobody can get into my clothes for me or feel my fall for me, or do my running. Nobody hears my music for me, either. I am just this one. Nobody else makes the words I shape with sound, when I talk. But anybody can act how I stutter in a rage. Anybody can copy echoes I make. And mirrors can show me multiplied many times, say, dressed up in green or dressed up in blue.
by James Berry