Someone Like You

Someone Like You

(a poem for the misfits, the mystics, and the marvelers)

I’ve known men like you—

Heroically enduring

my coruscating presence,

unamused,

obligated,

resigned to the ticking minutes

you must tolerate

in my orbit.

I’ve known women like you—

Perplexed

by the way I move

offbeat, asynchronous,

uncertain how

someone this bizarre

could be

a functioning adult.

You pity me, quietly,

behind polite nods,

thinking my salacious ramblings

are masks

for something broken.

Overestimating your grayscale life

as the measure of right.

I’ve known children like you—

I once was one.

Eyes wide at wonder,

wild with invention.

Creating new realities

just for the joy of it.

Building forts from cardboard boxes,

naming clouds like constellations,

laying in fields of tall grass—

the softest cathedral

for sacred solitude.

I’ve known cats like you—

All swat and scratch,

fang and flicker,

coiled and watchful.

But show me your belly.

Let me touch

the soft, hidden places.

Let us be brave enough

to comfort each other

without words.

I’ve known loneliness like you—

Insidious,

intimate.

Still, here I am,

writing to you.

Not afraid to be alone,

though I confess,

it stings to think

you might be lonely too.

So, you see—

I am someone like you.

Who watches the world,

quietly,

carefully,

turning its pieces in my hand

like smooth river stones,

wondering

what it all means—

and how it might end.