The Illusion of Self

Jesse Doiron

October 4, 2026

The poet meets himself each day as if a stranger known

only by his habit of often passing on their walks.

Sometimes, mere nods exchange, with faint, imaginary smiles.

Some mornings, formal greetings, like “Hello” or “How are you?”

Then, one day, for no apparent reason, they stop to talk.

A miracle of words trade back and forth in odd bazaar.  

The two link sudden arms and jostle early hours down

their crowded alleyways of indecipherable dreams,

when, finding a café for breakfast late – half sun, half shade –

they lavishly agree between to pay each other’s way.

And, after coffee’s come, they splay their work in middle light.

Stranger says to poet, “If I could write, it might be good.”

Poet says to stranger, “If only I could read, as well.”

Jesse Doiron has worked in Europe, the Middle East, and Asia as an educator and consultant. His teaching experience ranges from English for international business at the UC – Berkeley Extension in San Francisco to creative writing at the Mark Stiles Maximum Security Prison for the Texas Department of Criminal Justice.