Identity Theft

The jewelry store is closed,

the velvet necks inside are bare of gold.

I caught a man watching me from the glass—

someone with a heavy, square jaw

and a coat that didn't hang quite right.

I stepped left to let him pass

and he stepped left too,

mimicking my awkward, tired lean.

It was me, I suppose,

but the face looked like a draft

someone had abandoned

before the features were finished.