california doppelganger

by Paul Ilechko

There is a goodness in the emptiness of

the windswept streets     there is wealth 

and mystery     there is gratitude and a rarely

noticed sign that tells you the distance 

to California     it’s a long road to get there

and you know you won’t live forever

there will be long days on the road     time 

spent sleeping in cheap emotionless motel

rooms     wishing that somebody was lying

next to you     as you travel west the trees 

changing     their greens less brilliant     their 

foliage more leathery     but every morning 

the spiders are waiting     they float above you

on their silken threads     daring you to ignore 

them     confident in their exquisite aspect

the glitter of so many eyes     even as you

cross the bitter cold of the mountains

they slide through the pink caresses of 

morning’s vision     across the continental

divide     and you finally begin to understand

that this is not just you     you have a double

a terrifying copy who retraces the steps 

that you are still to take     approaching you

from unknown terrain     moving at your own

unremarkable pace     the crinkled skin that

surrounds his eyes so similar to your own

two snakes tangled in the sun-caressed rocks

they only see you when it rains     both of you

now lost forever to the thrill of language 

you take the silent way     rippling into oblivion.

Paul Ilechko is a Pushcart-nominated poet who lives with his partner in Lambertville, NJ. His work has appeared in a variety of journals, including The Night Heron Barks, Tampa Review, Iron Horse Literary Review, Sleet Magazine, and The Inflectionist Review. His first album, "Meeting Points", was released in 2021.