Composite

Patchwork pieces stitched together like Frankenstein’s monster that I stare at in the mirror every morning upon rising preparing for another day that will not differ in any appreciable way from the one that went before Desperate to discern in the person I see which of them were forced on me I suppose it doesn’t matter I doubt they can be separated just as in a photograph I once saw of a bicycle that had been abandoned in the crook of a tree by a young boy who never returned to retrieve it Over the decades since that day the tree continued to grow absorbing the alien object into itself It had no choice but to do so