Alone in a busy society...but not lost.
Barely able to smile...
Wishing for nothing and getting one's wish fulfilled.
While others preach prosperity and mining and drilling and environmental rearrangement, one wonders why worm food is not a sufficient goal.
When one is born not to lead but to wonder, where does one wander in one's wondering?
Let the others have their castles and palaces and rocketship destinations.
This one's feet of clay have eroded, the body overgrown with kudzu and covered with mosquito bites, a permanent stereotype profile of a dying breed.
Wasn't one talking about books and futures and electronic brains? Let the youngest generation figure all that out. This one has gone to seed, ready for a strong breeze to disperse one's harvest to feed hungry wanderers far afield.
Re-tired of competing with one's own repetitious thought set for leftover rare grains of originality. Tired of making fun of others' hard work to get a cheap laugh.
Starving for undeserved attention.
Lonely but not desperate.
No viable means of self-sufficient support. Pioneer spirit too strong to lean on network any longer.
No stranger to this depression - time to think about packing up and running scared from one's inadequate reflection.
The others can decide how to carve up resources for guns, butter, plows, diamond tiaras, tire rims and gourmet food.
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