In this strange land,
I will wear a mask
and, though I itch,
heavy woolen robes.
I nod wisely in confusion,
only to find hidden blades
in peaceful palms.
There is a pattern to this
and I will build a machine
that can calculate
right
and worth
truth
and certainty
love
do they?
friend
probably not
what’s the point
I am being used
what’s the point
of being loved,
if being loved
doesn’t mean
being protected
from a world
that’s designed
only to
hurt
me. I am enough.
Suddenly, I realized,
the machine I built
is broken, flawed,
erroneously-coded.
I designed a system
to explain the behaviors
of these strange people,
of which, nothing
is understood,
except, that,
they cannot
be understood,
at all.
Made from sitcom parents,
Saturday morning cartoons,
they are justice and order,
to a GI Joe theme-song tune.
I made them up, the rules
and standards, passing out
masks, for all around…
I’ll call him Crow.
I’ll call her Raven.
He’s Dog. They’re Fox.
You are Hound.
Before now, I’d whisper,
“There!
Now that I’ve named you,
I can finally understand
the hidden messages
beneath your snickers,
gentle touches,
or wide-eyed frowns.”
Then those people,
possibly annoyed,
removed my masks,
to show their own.
I was lost again
in the place I thought
was my home.
Wait, I have a map!
I drew it from memory,
cataloging a million
miles of road
I’ve never
been on.
©️ Tenpenny, 2026.
Image credit.