this piece of me fits in nowhere
as other people find things
to do
with their time
places to go
with one another
things to say
to each other.
I am
burning in hell
some place north of Mexico.
flowers don't grow here.
I am not like
other people
other people are like
other people.
they are all alike:
joining
grouping
huddling
they are both
gleeful and content
and i am
burning in hell.
my heart is a thousand years old
I am not like
other people.
I'd die on their picnic grounds
smothered by their flags
slugged by their songs
unloved by their soldiers
gored by their humor
murdered by their concern.
I am not like
other people.
I am
burning in hell.
the hell of
myself.
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