Midnight Poetry

The world does not belong to me,

and I not to the world.

So what do I belong to, if not myself or them?

I belong to Jupiter, an alien from mars.

I don’t belong in noisy places, crowded fairs, nor bars.

The church is filled with congregation, a massive blob of one.

And I of one, a massive blob, of gelatinous juice from space.

I eat and eat as I wish, I do not say my grace.