by Bill Yarrow
Why go  outside when you can play the piano
to  disaffected engagés in rooms with mirrors
the  color of linoleum? Why go outside when you
can  commune directly with the lucent dead?
Why go  outside when oysters can be had inside
in cans  and Moliere can be had in leather? Why
go  outside when striped marmosets will dance
Morse  code on your bedroom dresser at dawn? 
Why go  outside where it is benighted and
melanomic?  Why go outside where the gutters
are  fraudulent and clogged with popularity?
Why go  outside where you could catch Asperger's?
Why go  outside where left-handedness is discouraged
and righteousness has been redefined as acumen?

| 2 favs | 1135 views 6 comments | 103 words All rights reserved. | 
This poem appears in WRENCH (erbacce-press 2009).
The poem appears in Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX, 2012).
Good one. The last two lines really caught my attention. I'm left-handed and love the outdoors...haha
Why indeed? I have to go outside now, but not before I tell you how I enjoyed this poem. So many delightful lines here. When I come back inside I will read it again.
Very interesting, textured, and lovely poem
Nice poem, Bill. I really like the form. Good music in the lines - Good breaks. Favorite: "Moliere can be had in leather"
Bill very nice work here. I like where this leaves me...
* "When you have to make a Choice and don't make it, that in itself is a Choice":)
/about introvert`s choice/