In a chat with the darling dark-haired Otis on the streets of Cyrene, I
chanced to note a whimsical tone to his wish for acceptance. Is it so
bad to be a little different?

Otis

There he stands poolside, unfettered
With the burden of experience.
Yet, the appraisal of his betters
Weighs heavy in a mind delirious
For the camaraderie of a few good fellows.
Hail conformity! Blow hard, the bellows

That stoke the fires of the boyish mind!
His grubby knees espouse his exploits.
Here, a dark-haired boy of the kind
Who silences his softer aesthetic, adroit
Perception and deft of vision
To see the grail of his celebrated mission.

Fireflies. As if the banal pack of chaps
Could decry such fashionable plunder,
Or suffer the woes of mental lapse
To contemplate the natural wonder.
The only cost to dodge comeuppance
The boy parts ways with his beloved buttons.

So fill the jar, says I! Embrace congruity.
Let us all cast off unique expression
To join the ranks of bland community.
Or save young Otis his transgression,
Encourage him to stand alone and weather
The callow taunts of his so-called brothers.


Penned by my hand on the 12th of Ero, in the year 399 AF.