One is a real lover
Well, kinda, sorta
Not in the Hallmark card sense either
But more a lover
Than his twin, for sure
He softens the mornings
In his lab coat
Reaching for the Coffee pot
And in one swift orchestrated move
A kiss and hug
Until he swings you across
The room, spinning senselessly
The other one is a wounded child
Try to remember that between tantrums
What triggers his discontent
Don't use his hateful words against him
Because his mornings
Grey and cold, no amount of coffee
Can remedy the cold shoulder,
The complaints, for never being able
To be compliant enough
To take that elixir he slips
In your drink so knowingly
One speaks of books he's read
The great finds you found for him
From the dollar store
By Pulitzer Prized authors, even
He rants with the spin doctors on NPR
Hates politicians, hates bad people
The other one drives his truck on the
Very edge of the sidewalk at full speed
Because he wants to scare you, and then
Laughs when he does
Soon enough the lab-coated man
Doesn't appear in the mornings anymore
Even the coffee pot starts to grumble
He is devoured, like Superman devoured
Clark Kent, but they are both there
Like Siamese Twins, their hearts
Are fused together, and pretty soon
You will lose yourself and both
By fucking with the Bermuda Triangle
