The Marginal Fear You Outcasts Most. The Secure Only Dread Feeling Marginal.

Imaginary numbers are a flock
Of pigeons on the outfield grass, alas.

Oh, marginality, alterity,
Oh, radical difference, how we miss you!

We invited you all to play great games,
Redrew our boundaries to let you in,

But now you’ve gone and fled past the bleachers,
Leaving us lost in long weeds and pigeons.

You know you were never truly outcast.
We counted on you to crowd our sidelines.

But as soon as we drew new lines past you,
You left us for something indefinite.

We want you to know we had names for you,
And roles we were eager for you to play.

We’re not like those who think they own the game,
Control the spotlight, the scoreboards, the gate.

We were never more than reserves ourselves,
But we believed in you. Why did you flee

Out beyond the boundaries of kindness,
Beyond any social contract at all?

We know you’re out there. We can feel your stares.
If you must go, please, go further, go far.