The face in Spain was mainly
Me, again;
The eyes, the nose, the hair, the brow, the chin, the skin, the height,
      the build, the tilt of head in thought, every outward sign . . .
Was mine.

Frantic mind sought fatal flaw;
But no, it was me I saw.

He turned my way and matched my stare,
You and I, here and there!
Our eyes locked, noses twitched, hair on end, brows in frown,
      chins dropped, postures rigid, all to see . . .
He was me.

I gave him an accusing look.
Could he be a gene-pool crook

Or was the strain mainly
On my brain,
Under the hot Toledo sun, as it burst onto the square in noonday blaze,
      casting solid shadows and shimmering mirages? No, no, no . . .
It wasn't so.

For when I moved and broke the trance,
He did the same slow-motion dance.

Slowly moved to closer view
It was true:
We two strangers shared the same façade; this confirmed, were now compelled
      to find out who, and what, beneath the shell . . .
If we would tell.

He moved my mouth,
but north was south:
Buenos tardes, señor. Como esta usted? Por favor el mellizo, por favor amigo,
      por favor yo mismo, por favor no adversario . . .
Out came diccionario.

But the need to know was now a race
Far beyond the word search pace.

I shook his head.
Non habla Español, I said.
He waved my arm, smiled my face, flashed my eyes, spoke my tongue
    Who are You? What is your land?
As I shook my proffered hand.

My name is Canada — so confused,
I'm from Jack — so amused.

But meeting had a sudden end;
A limo came around the bend.
He shrugged my shoulders, waved my hand, ducked my head, sat me back;
      the rear window held my dazed farewell . . . .
Then I was gone, and here as well.

The spell was broken thus:
"Everybody on the bus!"

Rounding up our puzzled band,
Our guide led me by the hand;
Showed me a paper; there on page one, a photo head and shoulders me;
      but really, who is he?

My double met in a Spanish crowd?
"The mayor of Toledo", she read aloud.

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