Bookstore

 He hangs out in bookstores, all dusty and dim,

or is it the bookstore that hangs out in him?
He knows about life in a clinical way
from books he has read and the things people say.

The pants are too short and the face is too long.
The shirt and the bright purple vest are all wrong.
He hides behind glasses with black metal frames
and lives with a cousin whose gold fish have names.

But, he can think thoughts that no other can touch,
like Hawking, string theory, genomics and such.
He quotes from Will Shakespeare and Cicero too.
He knows Aristotle "much better than you".

He eats when he’s hungry and lives without time.
He writes without rhythm and trolls without rhyme,
covertly, in cyberspace rooms where he knows
that he can be anyone, anything goes.

He’s read about life but he hasn’t yet been,
he promised his Mom but he backed out again--
and he’d shed a tear if he knew how to cry.
He’s dying to live while he’s waiting to die.