Introvert

Introvert

I fix a smile and mold my face
in pleasant human guise.
With shoulders back and spine held straight,
I look them in the eyes.

Say hi, hello, and howdy-do,
what can I do you for?
The words slip glibly off the tongue
to build up false rapport.

My vague unease is hidden well
behind the cheery smile,
I do the things that people do,
dissembling all the while.

Joining up, yet set apart
at work, in church, or school,
unable to commit my heart
to arbitrary rule.

Impostor, cuckoo, alien,
in skin that fits just wrong,
a stranger in my own hometown
with no place to belong.

I watch them in the coffee shop,
at tables sitting close.
What secrets are they sharing there,
that my kind never knows?

See happy couples holding hands,
group hug around a cake.
Old friends embrace, they ask what's new,
I watch alone and ache.

I long to have a contact high,
read what the mailbox brings.
But all I find is soulless spam,
my smart phone never rings.

A friendly tap, two lover's lips,
sweet grandchild on the knee.
A thousand ways to feel someone,
but all denied to me.

These yearning hands reach out in vain,
elusive touch recedes.
The space between remains the same,
despite my wants and needs.

If scenes from life go flashing by
in my allotted year,
the empty frames will only show
I wasn't really here.