SIDEWAYS TO MANKIND
I am just like that : oblique, the wrong way,
turned and twisted about. I only see my reflection
upended and backwards to everything else. I
do not fit. Look at this cosy place - even the
doorknobs here keep pace with any internal
monologue which may be going. I scribe my
only fearsome figure on a penciled draft of
nothing in a notebook of no account.
-
A mailman is walking by - oblivious to me
and lost within his task, I only for a moment
wish I could be him, doing what he does and
staying right to focus. My world is, by contrast,
a rainbow of churlish colors and speed : no grace
to last the moments, no outside voice to heed.
-
It is entering late afternoon. My God, I am
lost to myself. A few cars, instead of staying
still are moving by. Someone makes them go -
not I. My post, in here is here. I am present.
I am fully accounted for.
I am just like that : oblique, the wrong way,
turned and twisted about. I only see my reflection
upended and backwards to everything else. I
do not fit. Look at this cosy place - even the
doorknobs here keep pace with any internal
monologue which may be going. I scribe my
only fearsome figure on a penciled draft of
nothing in a notebook of no account.
-
A mailman is walking by - oblivious to me
and lost within his task, I only for a moment
wish I could be him, doing what he does and
staying right to focus. My world is, by contrast,
a rainbow of churlish colors and speed : no grace
to last the moments, no outside voice to heed.
-
It is entering late afternoon. My God, I am
lost to myself. A few cars, instead of staying
still are moving by. Someone makes them go -
not I. My post, in here is here. I am present.
I am fully accounted for.
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