I'm  different. It was known,
but yesterday it was understood.
This is why:

On Mondays I ask the questions that have no answer,
and my answers have no question.
Around noon I search for the space between orange and green,
then I listen for the songs between tomorrow and the future.
At 11:11 PM I try to choose between the bittersweet perfume of her sweat
and the scent of the magnolia flower in your hair.

I measure time by counting the blinks of my eyelids,
The wings of my thoughts fluttering without a purpose.
I'm dollar wise and penny foolish.
I give to all and yet I'm selfish.

In my head my poetry sounds like a cracked guitar,
and my music like a breeze rustling through the cherry flowers in May.
I close my eyes to see the world's beauty
and the pain makes me rejoice the eternal truth of life.
I gamble with my feelings and I'm cold to all.  
I see myself in all my friends and hate human condition,
but love the road I'm  given by blind luck.

Crossing a bridge I always pray for safety
but I slalom between my inner dragons,
crashing every once in a while,
scars visible on my dried knees,
tears frozen in time and space.

One rainy day, on the old barge on the wide river,
My left foot slipped on my autistic realm
and I  stomped my right foot on my genius
(if telling the future qualifies as a special gift).
My big toe said:
"you toad, where did you learn to dance, 'cause you are gnarly good."
I ignored the voice,
but that's when I had the first sign of it,
Of my strangeness.