One Degree to Another

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ONE DEGREE TO ANOTHER


Until, in near-imperceptible 

gradation, you realize you are

being followed by a contingent


of that chattering covey

you brushed past whose chatter

stilled, as if someone broke off mid-


sentence and asked to be excused

in pursuit of a scent so familiar 

it aches. You will find


you can’t shake them, wind

as you might, as they fight

through the crowd to keep 


in your wake, the chance of a sideways

glance. You will not be fast 

enough and they will catch up


at some crossroads or other,

tap you on the shoulder.

Turn around. They will say, “Oh, I thought 


you were someone else.”

You will reply, then,

in a voice you know 


is not your own, “I am.”


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