The body goes on in the world
about its business of escaping
from Alcatraz and you are eyes
seeing the convertible, the driver,
the bridge, and Agnes – and you
are the gravelly voice-over going on
and on in an incessant obligato.
Then you meet a weird doctor
who promises your voice and eyes
a face, saying, as he unwraps
the bandages, “You will always look
a little older, but feel a little younger,”
and you stare into the mirror
and yes, you are not and are
yourself, your voice, body, and face
in a kind of long-armed,
lop-sided accord and you
wonder what the story will be