She is elated when I feel down,
crazy when I feel sane,
and knows just what to say
to make everyone laugh and smile –
while I grimace inside each time
someone mangles my name.
Her hair looks windstorm-wonderful when mussed
and un-fussed. Mine falls limp or bedhead-
crinkled at best straight out of the salon.
She curves the air in sky-high stilettos.
I can trip, turn an ankle, ouch and flatten
my arches on flip flops instead.
Wearing a bathing suit, my Alter Ego
bikinis bumps in all the right places – only a Spanx
gruesome girdling wet suit now fits my spaces.
Texting and Instagram eats up her wit and charm.
I try to “tweet on You Tube a Google” long as my arm.
Her Facebook friends multiply like flowers in Spring –
I have a loyal thirty two-ish I’m just guessing.
Despite all of this, we are forever best friends.
She inspires, entertains and imagines herself
into the aha of my life. My Alter Ego dresses for success,
lives for happiness and is the spice of my life.
She is my heroine, soulmate, and close confidant.
Honestly, after all, this for sure I know – she needs me too,
for I am just as much her Alter Ego.
ag ~ 2015