His head’s bent a tad
beyond the average frame,
thus unable
to see straight.  He’s skewed.

Be a little
charitable —
his path makes sense
to him, now.

A laugh or two
may be forgiven, maybe
even shared, but more than that
and he may cry,

or rage, or die.
It is not that he
is ignorant of
his ill fit: not at all.

It is not that he
is ignorant of the joke
in how he trips and falls:
no, not at all.

Rather,
he is beyond all that,
most of the time. Has
learned how to get where

he’s going,
most of the time.
You pointing it out
and smirking or fearing

brings him back
to when he did not know,
to when he fell more often.
And so, he cries,

or rages, or dies
inside. Perhaps
outside, too,
if the moment is right.