Alter Ego

Where was she planning to go-
the fraudster who stole my credit card
and did she have to abort her road trip
when the card was declined by Hertz?
Or did she nod with nonchalance
and pull another plastic square
from her back pocket
ready to swipe,
ripe for processing
and theft.

I study my credit care statement,
teeming with fraudulent charges
and conjure the life of hipster luxury
my fake self has been enjoying–
starting at the organic bakery coop
hoodie up, ear buds in,
where I sip a soy latte,
nibble neatly on a parmesan rosemary scone
and save a couple of gluten free cowgirl cookies
to share with a fraudster friend later on.
Next, I browse the Kings Boutique,
select a pair of silver cascading drop earrings,
look in the mirror to admire them
against my olive skin and natural waves,
before finding respite for my weary feet
in a pair of silver and rhinestone espadrilles.

What a chill life of indulgence
my fake self leads
there on the West Coast
among laid-back palm trees
and Zen masters.

It doesn’t take the phone representative long
to untangle the fake from the real:
recurrent co-pays to the on-line pharmacy,
monthly donation to public radio,
weekly purchases at ShopRite
a big box grocer that stocks
cooking oil in jars big enough for bathing
and tubs of peanut butter
sure to last through the apocalypse.

A case file is opened
and the representative assures me.
If found
the fraudster will be prosecuted
to the full extent of the law.
When I travel to the West Coast
to visit her in jail
I will bring a bag of brioche knots
from the coop bakery that we love.

INKWELL JOURNAL, SPRING, 2022. NO 37