i wonder what it’s like
to be one of the normal people
the ones you see in
grocery stores supermarkets and bars

the ones that
go about their lives
like busy bees
carrying on
talking, laughing etc
they work they play
contribute to society
in a meaningful way

i’ve never been like them
even as a kid i had this
certain sense of displacement
following a fork in the road
that led me along a parallel path

wandering through life
as a curious observer
alone with myself
reading cues, hiding blues
searching for fuel
to fit in

always a separate entity
intelligent inquisitive individual
yet somehow different

this carried on into adulthood
i just don’t do friendships
or relationships
very well
try as i might
these patterns of
normal behavior elude me

there are two planes of existence i think
one for normal folks
and one for folks like me
on this plane life is
harder
it forges a certain amount of
toughness
what was it bukowski called it
the continual condition

most days it doesn’t bother me
however there are some
where i long for that connection
that feeling of normalcy
belonging to someone
or something greater than yourself

i had it briefly(perhaps)
but by accident ignorance
or lack of empathy
i killed it (and a part of me in the process)

it’s strange that i
take care of people for a living
how do the two compute
i guess i do so well because i’m
detached
I don’t think i could carry on in the routine
9-5 world
so
these days i eat (very little)
go to work pet my cats
write smoke
read and sleep

it may seem dull
but for now
it’s a tolerable existence