Home > poetry > Meeting face to face.

Meeting face to face.

With my back against the rigid plastic panel,

balancing stoically near the rear exit of the over-crowded bus,

a  shot of cautious disbelief and fear caught me off guard,

flushed upward  through my spine and spread through my cheeks,

leaving me pale and dizzy.

In the shadowy, skewed reflection of the adjacent plastic panel,

my face looked so much like my mother’s.

I thought of all the times I was glad not to be her,

and all the times I spent wishing I’d never be like her,

and  there we were,

meeting face to face.

I act like my father, but I look like my mother,

and now I am stuck thinking about all they lost,

and what I’ve gained,

and knowing that,

what am I supposed to do next?

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