The Identity Thief

From you I make    a purer form of you—unencumbered by blood flow,memory bleached clean as a set    of excavated teeth.                When creditors call you                in the evening's late hours, tell themyou've lifted airily        out of your sneakers, unspooling passwordsthrough phone cords and birds' hollow bones.        She's freer, she's freer, this        new self                whisked like a suit to the dry cleaner—though I'll admitthat I slipped into her sleeves.    Together we've seen        bad movies in far away cities, felt            sunrises warm our near-perfect croissants. I almost sentyou a postcard but founda new lover before writing my    "Wish you were here."

Know this: I never owned anything         more than your absence, that unspokenreassurance that you'll not pass               yourself while crossing the street.See these faces, full now with fall's attenuated    windchill,each one ready for work, or sex, or sleep's long reward.See them step    into restaurants or make wayfor their neighbors, warm in the knowledge        that so many unknowable persons        build livesproximate to their own.        Now imagine that one of them shares your name.I am in the business    of elaborate public service.I robbed you of no    more than isolation's charm. We've all kept it    in surplus, our lives equal parts        digitized and adrift.Empathy is what I've given you, gratis.        I'll take anger in exchange for my grift.