Philippine Doppelganger
by Mushroom Montoya
“Wow! You were great on the guitar
Last night in the Mania Bar.”
I stared at my shipmate
Wondering what mischief
Wondering what trick
He was attempting to play.
I didn’t have a guitar
And I was never in a bar
Last night.
I pulled back my blanket,
Climbed down from my rack,
And stared at his goofy smile,
Still wondering all the while,
What he was up to.
“I saw you playing the guitar
With that Filipino band
In the Manila Bar
On main street.”
I told him I’d had duty.
I never left our ship.
I suggested we go tonight.
I knew it would foil his trick.
We strolled into the Manila Bar
Two pretty, young ladies
Took our hands
And lead us to a table.
“You buy me drink?’
The mini-skirted, bright red lipped
Lady of the evening
Requested with a smile.
“I will if you drink
One of the two I buy for myself.
She nodded and giggled
And left to bring my beer.
I knew her glass
Would be as beerless
As she was braless
In her tiny revealing miniskirt.
The band came on stage
My shipmate stood and pointed
“How can that be
You are there and
You are here by me?”
My beard was thicker
His hair was longer
Our size and weight
Were about the same.
When the band took its break
The band member stared
And pointed at me
And stared at him.
The whole band came to our table
Staring and pointing
Their mouths declaring,
Wow’s and awes.
We sat across from each other
Or could we say ourselves
Staring into a mirror
That moved on its own.
He didn’t speak English.
I didn’t speak Tagalog.
So we just stared at each other
And smiled.
I gave him my glasses,
The band roared with laughter,
My shipmate looked stunned,
The ladies giggled
And sipped their fake alcoholic drinks.
They offered to let me play
On my doppelganger’s guitar.
I wish at hadn’t declined,
For then my shipmate
Would have seen the future.
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