It is not Jekel and
Hyde,
But rather how to keep ones life
from seeping into the other,
the professions from the personal,
this face from that,
I never knew which one I was speaking to,
except in the dead of night
when she put one face away
and wore only the one
I most wanted to see,
Day or night face
Knowing so much more
than I ever will
I admire them both
like two different people,
both amazing,
both the kind of people
I would love to meet
One jotting into her cub reporter pad
The other gripping the stem
Of a glass of wine.
Now I meet neither
And wonder from afar
Which she is today
Or may some other
I would not recognize
In passing on the street.
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