We Are All Exceptions
It’s hard to throw a mind onto paper.
Perhaps it may burst open
in the most unpleasant way,
dripping through to who-knows-where.
Perhaps it may shatter into a thousand pieces,
undecipherable even to its owner.
We realize but we don’t.
Is this me? You? Who?
So we give ourselves a shape.
I am triangle, she is square.
And thus we are –
satisfied?
We grow fond of specificities –
rules –
limits.
Don’t we?
And yet
we are all exceptions.
Gay, straight, other
Christian, atheist, other
White, black, other
Male, female, other
I am myself.
You are yourself.
And we are all exceptions.
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