Improv/Imitation 2, Week 12

From Fred Chappell's "Doppelgängers":

"A man comes toward me out of the night,"
but I pretend that I don't see him.
He walks quickly, thumping his feet like
I imagine a rabbit would--though I cannot
know because I have never seen a rabbit.
He walks hard, swinging his arms like an ape
and clutching his fists as though preparing
to bend over and walk on them just before
approaching my own tired toes pointing.
His eyes are blue--light blue--and I wonder
if he is Lestat de Lioncourt, finally
coming to take my blood without hesitation
after years of pretending that he is real.
But no, his hair is too short, cropped
like a military man, like a hairless cat
who crows in its misery of being so
hideously adorable, though I do not think
I could describe this man as adorable.
Perhaps only hideous. No, he is not
Lestat, nor Louis de Pointe du Lac,
coming for me despite my wish to live.
He finally reaches my face, and I do not
move, afraid of frightening him away.
His mouth opens like a puppy's yawn,
preparing to speak and finally says:
"What kind of foundation do you use?"