calypso and trouble too

Calypso, (is the) mistress of colour, of unreliable hearing.
Trouble, (was) once deaf now (is) sharp as a dog, once spastic and poorly co-ordinated now graceful with perfect posture.

Are they another version of us, left peacock to right peacock?
Asked left peacock, here, to right peacock.

Are they?

Were we the first?
Is this a system that founded on duality?

Asks right peacock to left, knowing that the words will infuriate to the point of lucidity.

Forgive me.
Oh forget it.

It's over a hundred thousand times already.
We're each other's mirror and who can say who's real?

Who can say we're not the same?
(intrudes, uninvited and unwelcome, the ever unassuming: "just jo")

We're not the same.
We're not the same.
We're not the same.

I remember a moment that might have been a beginning.

Between us.

I first re-remembered it drinking from the tainted chalice: therapy.

Perhaps I was trying to please?

It seems unlikely.

For the more I care the less she cares.

And she was there too.

Just as she was there with me. In that moment.

In that moment that might have been a beginning.

Two peacocks.