Watching you turn

into every other thing.

Never once fell in

with the motion,

always changing trajectories.




Perhaps not what I thought you were.

The constant change

leads me to believe

that you may not know, yourself.


What’s it like to be a puzzle?

Putting yourself together

one piece at a time.

Taking bits of different pictures

you encounter

and creating a single,


mosaic image.



even amongst the uncommon.


so difficult

to plot your next destination.

Here and there,

and maybe even


One position,

juxtaposed onto another.


Mournful and celebratory

in the same breath.

Something potentially destructive,

but beautiful.

You wage a war

against mediocrity

by your mere existence.


Unable to be tied,


or geolocated.

Not a bug,

but a feature.

Something that doesn’t work

like it was designed,

but better as it is.


Best left alone,

because anomalies like you

often resolve themselves.

The story writes you out,

despite your tiny cult following.


Maybe one little thing

that you have done

might make a difference

in your asynchronous orbit.

Changing the ebb and flow

of the system.


It must be so lonely

to be something

so singular.


So it is.



HG – 2022

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