On The Outside

Being on the outside reflects a grim recognition 

of spatial reality - but only if you know and care 

for me there isn’t any difference I can see apart 

from where we’re of another place in the matrix 

we’re always somewhere - even nowhere’s just 

another place; less, perhaps, a ticked credibility 

but that needs agreement, yet we don’t get into 

that debate or even parse their neighbourhood; 

where the cookie crumbles is a locale with feet 

enough so good vibrations populate actuality - 

without it rational achievement’s sense echoes 

collusively with shadowed hints of ribald jeers 

no-one’s there - or have been, unless dreamed 

into sanctioned corporeality of vague inference 

and that’s where you’ll find me, an innuendo of 

restraint posing with feigned indifference … 

© 25 July 2015, I. D. Carswell