The Grass on the Other Side

As I sit upon this mass-produced bench,
My unbelonging wafting round me, (oh the stench!)
I wonder if there is anything sadder than waiting alone.
Then I hear the ringing of the phone.
When I pick it up, I hear on the other line,
The voices of not valuing my own free time
Or not even having any of it to claim,
and of not having a purpose I hold as close as my name.
It turns out that there is a purpose in this call:
To introduce me to things sadder—some, not all.

An Idiot Talks Himself Into It

My ears tell me she's interesting;

She has a lot that's worth hearing to say.

My eyes say she's not fascinating,

But she rates at least an 'okay.'

My years of being less young than I was

Say I trained against this yearning,

That I'm happy enough, but not human enough;

I have no love, only learning.

The part of me that still thinks it's young

Says we make a good pair, so let's go.

Life has taught me that women will hide

Incompatibility. It's a strategy they know.

I don't want life (or a year, or even a month)

For us to mean hiding who she is,

But I'm a niche product, and I'm packaged as such.

She might really be interested,

and if that's the case, and if all this is real,

Then what could be the harm?

Perhaps somehow life would be better for her

If we lived it arm in arm.

I've complained that social justice wins no broad beachhead in my heart.

Is to favor interesting, not pretty, not at least a start?

All that's certain, for me, is my poetic voice

Signifies a blithering idiot

Who knows what not to do, and so uses sound and fury

To talk himself into it.

Less Human Than Human

I'm a ridiculous creature, pretending to be human,

and I certainly do a terrible job.

I occupy all space but the fine line between

Worship and neglect. I cherish and ignore every friend I've got.

Being my friend can't be easy. The compensation

Is that you can do or say or ask whatever you want,

and I'll comply, or jump to it, or agree, or give permission,

Or just nod.

That One Time I Wished for a Middle Seat

I can't help but gaze at seats B and C,

and I can't help but notice their owners' appeal–

In the subjective, not my favorite–to be objective, surely real,

and for once I wish away my corner–window seat–

To see both their faces as they talk across me.

I can imagine what a simple pleasure it would be

To be ignored–and even silent–but still in between.

It's the only time I ever wished to have a middle seat.

Home Away From Home, Pt. 2

My morn wasn't so early as night was just late

(Though not as late as my flight in). I did things the wrong way.

At my time to do business, I was still on my flight,

So now I bend rules, telling silver-grey lies

To do in the last minute what I ought in the first.

Still, I won't say the time spent away was the worst.

I'll miss having access to old favorite foods

and six days with two half-days of business to do,

I'll have to unpack, and worse, turn on my phone,

But I'm pleased to return to my home away from home.

Home Away From Home, Pt. 1

Just when I started to feel I'd moved in,

It was time to fly someplace foreign again.

That's the nature of business. It never stands still,

Nevermind that I sit around wishing it will,

Though this wasn't as foreign as leaving my home.

The routes were well marked. I was often alone.

The streets were all wider, though equal in crowds;

I stayed near a Masjid, though it wasn't as loud.

I sat with beautiful women, not shoulders wide as my own

On my way back to away, to my home away from home.

Beneath Holmes, Watson/Above Beeblebrox, Garrison

I am a half-reformed loser who doesn't know his place

Struggling to locate the deck between a deuce and an ace,

Alternating between delusions of mint condition

Or trying to live up to limited edition,

Balancing my vain, vacuous striving for elite

Or self-pitied satisfaction as a broken-down antique,

Locating who I am despite that I'm not first,

But it has still still been half a lifetime since I was the worst,

and hoping to set a meaningful definition of success,

Searching for what it would mean to succeed and not be best.