Misfit

 

It is not the getting older (which is a true gift)
it is the becoming a misfit.
I no longer fit with you
because I lack the machine to join you on What's App.
And that is my fault.
I try to join you on Instagram,
but I and my screen are misfits.
We are of the horizontal race
but the drinking fountain has a new sign: “verticals only.”
That is my fault.

Though innocent,
I have long been accused
(in a gentle loving way)
by friends and loved ones
of choosing and enjoying my missed fits.
Perhaps it was my charm--
almost never a problem nor a fault.
Now, it is my fault that I must send you an email rather than a text.

Until I have the machine that allows me to fit
I will add Instagram to the things I forgo.
I will continue to be myself,
enjoy knowing myself as a misfit,
and love you for knowing:
the charm in it is all my fault. 

 Misfit, 9/24/23

Bob Komives

 

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