Lookalike Companion

The tea leaves are dwindling without providing a rhyme.  A pigman with wasp features and a streak of enemy bacon starts to hassle at the painted-shut, knowing full well I'm vegetarian.  (I apologised to the fishes yesterday.)  I guess who he's come from.  The man, himself, won't waste time wearing down the discarded pavement gum.  I suspect he has greed-scopes aimed at his own coccyx.  No doubt the crane fly drone the other day was one of theirs.  I need a brain mirror to bounce off - the trampoline in the garden doesn't do justice.  Besides, outside is what is known as 'open space.'

Then it hits me with the grandmother of all smacks.  Like the sound of the morning newspaper slapped on to the table.

I'm a lookalike companion
A trick of time and space
I'm the double of your best friend
I'm a copy of my face