Everything Happens Twice

That bird sitting dazed on the railing
has flown into your window before.
The dead-end street you’ve turned onto—
You did that just last month. The boss
calling you into his office
has nothing new to say.
There are only so many scripts.
Everything happens twice.
The friend who borrows your raincoat
will borrow your raincoat tomorrow. The parent
who never loved you enough
is doing it from the grave. You are writing
the very same poem
over & over again they are playing
that old, old song but it’s never
the very last dance. So smile at the guy
who drinks too much—
the one with forget-me-not eyes. Sleep
with the one who calls you
by another woman’s name.

--Eve Robillard