How to Fail to Tell a Tale

Now, let’s think on those we aren’t,
A task tough for those of us
Who aren’t much like most of us,

Those of us who were ill-formed
In odd shapes that don’t work well,
Who don’t live like most of us,

Who have grown more used to life
On the edge of us, here, but
Side of the road, edge of town,

Side of the cliff, edge of day,
Edge of the crowd, in the shade—
Those of us who don’t think much

Of us as the rest of us.
But let’s try. What are the rest,
The less bent, but just as hurt

Lives like? We sit in the dark,
In the near dark, moon and stars,
Cold by our side of the road

And think on those in the heart
Of it all, in town, big towns,
The few of them rich, most poor,

The souls that know they have souls
And the souls that know they don’t,
The ones with a chance to do

Great things or at least live well,
And the ones worse off than us.
We think, they want their tales told,

Want to read their lives in us,
And they do have tales. We don’t,
Not on the side of the road.