I Go Back To The House For A Book by Billy Collins

I turn around on the gravel and go back to the house for a book,
something to read at the doctor's office,
and while I am inside,
running the finger of inquisition along a shelf,
another me that did not bother to go back to the house for a book heads out on his own,
rolls down the driveway,
and swings left toward town,
a ghost in his ghost car, another knot in the string of time,
a good three minutes ahead of me —
a spacing that will now continue for the rest of my life.