I used to run this city. This morning, I mugged someone in the street for 20 cents. I defilemyself. See the profile on this coin? It’s the pretty one. On the reverse, he bleeds where I knifed him under the midnight in my thumb. You see one side or the other with the coin. With me, see both. Now you comprehend the grotesque: every side of the self tunnels through the body to the light. The bold led them there. Trouble is, by decision-time, they’re either good or evil – to me, the difference is the shift key for the letter it springs from the prison-house of type, but people get upset. You know how it must be: either either, or or, no in-between. Flip the coin. This is logic purified of prejudice. I see your judgment, but give me this: you need guts to see it through. Your hero’s petty foes live petrified of the good they might do if they just let go, yet see how deep in their cupidinous bones they long for even two ounces of good’s return. I could give them the dimes to turn on, but they could not.. Him? My true opposite number in this town? He never lets himself love his flip-side devil – though every night he covers himself in its ink.
for derek beaulieu
© Richard Harrison
Art by Riley Rossmo (Two-Face’s Left in pen and ink) and derek beaulieu (Two-Face’s Right in letters)
Peterborough Poets 