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Other people have other people,

And I have--these stupid little poems,

Through which I communicate with my others,

Who must remain anonymous.

But a poem can't give you a welcoming hug,

Or ask: "How ya been doin' lately?"

Or kiss you lightly and call you friend.

I've tried many times to tunnel through

The berm of social prejudice,

And every time I've met resistance--

The barrier's been reinforced.

Go home, loser!

This is the fate of those cast out by outcasts,

This is the fate of too-different drummers,

This is the fate of the Only Ones.