Recognition

They say that if we saw ourselves cross the street
we would not be able to identify our own face.

My friend once told me I had a very distinctive walk.
At the state fair, within the throngs of a thousand people,
she thought she saw the unique bob of my head half-hidden in the crowd.
She pushed through the sea of faces towards that top of a head
and found her way to me.

Today, I was waiting to cross the street,
staring across at a tall, older black individual of a seemingly male persuasion on the other side.
When the light changed, we both took steps forward,
and crossed with the exactly same stride.

And as we passed, I couldn't help but watch, spellbound,
instantly recognizing myself in him.
I instinctively knew that we were moving
with the same cadence, same speed, same subtle spring in our steps--
I wondered what it meant.
I wondered if he were a reincarnation coexisting in the same time,
or a doppelganger simultaneously nothing and exactly like me,
or how maybe I was looking at myself and just couldn't recognize my face.

And now, I wonder whether he recognized it, too,
or whether he blocked the coincidence from his consciousness,
sharing only our step and not my fancy for the fantastical.

I wonder if he knew we were the same person.