Poetic Referendum(s) On Life

The Gain Of My Function Is A Deficit

My gain of function --
informed by you --
are words that permeate
this dense room

Experimental
with scientific leaning
to understanding why
a boy could get so hurt
by playing amongst you --
innocent, now self-aware,
how to take care with
a pad, a pen,
and a rescuing imagination
for diseases sprung
from spiteful tongues.

Ever learning the cost,
no longer feeling lost
in this throng, a crowd
that swarms a soul
navigating, assimilating
soon regulating a heart
to beat a bit slower,
to get to the end
and exit this room
with just a shred
of dignity.

9.9.21

Something I made up, now that I understand the meaning of 'Gain Of Function' which really seems vague.

As staunch as a stone in a moss-covered quarry, will anyone roll on their position if it's proved Dr. Fauci lied to Congress, lied to the world? Or, does he have an excuse from someone higher up?

How many licks to get to the center of this Coronavirus lollipop? The world may never know.

The poem was about me and not about Covid, just liked that scientific method as a metaphor about assumptions about how people apply their science to one who would dare rub elbows with the rest of the world, hoping to fit in. It could relate to how Jayne feels about those lame birthday wishes. Sorry I didn't send one, because I would try to make it meaningful, for what it's worth.