Outcast Incast Permacast
by Odin Roark

He thought himself not as special,
But different,
His alienation
Perhaps overdue and unavoidable,
His moment of truth
A long time coming.

For as days passed,
Self-deprecation waned,
Consciousness returned,
Converting outcast identity into epiphanies,
The swaggering losers into uncomprehending bystanders,
Unaware their judgmental arrogance had granted him liberation.

He now rides buses
Instead of begging Dad’s car.
Eats brown-bagged lunches
In place of group-fries with “them” of the past,
Finds peace with library books,
Ignoring the once nightly Grand Theft Auto competing.

Alone with new found company,
He confides with his past rejected inner voice,
That quiet sound that patiently waited,
Trusting the incast moment would arrive,
However late it might be.

And therein he did learn
Those now in the distance
Were of coarse speech,
Ungenerous and disgraceful in whims,
Faithless in friendships,
And transient in loves.

With his nights becoming peaceful slumbers,
He wonders will this last?
Might this be a turning of corners
Without need to look back?
Would he continue to smile in his dreams
And awaken unlabored from stress?

Had he created his true home of permacast?