The Two-Headed Man
The man was always fighting with himself
because he had two heads. One played the role
of optimist, as airy as an elf,
the other, dark and hairy as a troll,
would grouse and wheeze like a pneumatic drill.
And people made cruel jokes. “A man who got
ahead,” they said, or “Look, it’s twins!” The dull
one had no love but the blonde head did get
some dates, until his counterpart’s crude leer
murdered the mood. “I must be free,” he said,
and slipped an earwig in his brother’s ear,
which ate the brain. But then he felt half-dead.
I’ve killed myself, he thought and held it near,
whispering through the night, “Dear head, dear head.”
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