DOPPELGÄNGER Poem by Eva Gerlach

A man who cycled so hard we hardly saw him
on drawing level hoarsely cried watch out
but well before we could do anything he'd passed by
and well before we could look for him he'd all but gone.

He must have been a pro considering the way he disappeared
beneath the viaduct, transparent almost, a small cloud of
dust, not that it swirled up from the asphalt but that he
thinned and thinned away from catching up with himself.