Altogether and Not at All

Wherever Janus looks,
He’s still where Janus is,
Stuck in his Janus head

Between his nostalgia
And his dread. There’s no gate.
No transitions aren’t

Janus in his Janus
Place, playing sly behind
His duplex Janus face.

Extra eyes, extra nose,
Maybe he processes
More than most of you do—

Maybe he talks more, too.
But he’s as where he is
As any other soul.