Shadow

my shadow is tall
she can reach all the glasses
on the top shelf

she fills them to the brim
with strong cocktails
because alcohol doesn’t
bother her stomach,
and neither does any
quantity or combination of food

she drives fast
and says “f*ck it”
more than I do, because
that field of hers really is barren
and she lords over it
a lanky scarecrow in
bright red Jimmy Choos
waving a shotgun at the
crows who come to troll

she speaks her mind
without regret, picks fights, and wins
doesn’t hold on to the past
or worry about the future:
my shadow is the present’s present
a gift blissfully
unencumbered by memory,
family, or responsibility

she does what she does
wild and free, hooting and hollering
as she passes you in a cloud of dust
wheels spinning, middle finger
raised in a salute
with a perfect nail painted
to match the sparkle in her
gorgeous, long-lashed beguiling eyes

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This poem is a result of an exercise in Poemcrazy by Susan Wooldridge (you can see a photo of it on my homepage). Basically she suggested invisioning your shadow self, in the Jungian sense, and having a conversation with it, among other things. I didn’t stick to the guidlines offered in the prompt, but I did let myself imagine the opposite of what I see in the mirror and feel inside my own skin. This poem is what emerged!

Thank you for reading!