By Robert C Price


I’m ill-fitted

not one size fits

all type


I’m odd shaped

odd in thought

not of this world


Never one to adapt

more or less coalesce

mannequin ways

don’t appeal


I think clearly

boxes can’t hold me

A comet screaming

at the universe


Cowards give me

side glances asking

me why I’m not like

the others


I’m not horizontal

or vertical I’m more

askew like a fedora

tilted to the side


I don’t pretend to be anyone

except the person in the mirror

living outside the cube

too big to fit in confine spaces