Eccentric Authenticity

They tell me I’m eccentric.

“Well, duh!” says paint brush wielding Lola,

The most eccentric of my aunts,

As she paints flowery eyeballs onto skulls.

Why do you care?

They aren't your family

Tell em' to go to hell

If they don't like you.”

We are all the same,

I've been taught.

I am a minority,

I've been designated.

I am weird and not like anyone they know,

I've been told.

I can shape shift and almost fit in

Wherever I am,

But I like being around the odd ones,

The weirdos who know

They are fine, delightfully fine

With themselves.

I found them Big Sur

When I hid under a mountain of pillows.

We danced while beating our drums

As the spirits took us to see

Coyotes and Pumas, who embraced us with love.

I know that I have a tribal connection,

And affection for those who vibrate

To the songs in our hearts

To the music that makes us dance

To the rhythms of our lives.

We went skinny-dipping in a mountain lake

And shivered our laughter

As we scrawled poems in the water

Of how Coyote gifted us with imagination.

My soul hears them

Flapping their winged flutes,

Tap dancing on their fluid drums.

Performing their symphony.

I heard one laughing in Sri Lanka,

Wearing an orange robe while perusing my warship.

He invited me to the market,

Where we shared smiles while eating lychee fruit.

When I meet my vibratory siblings

My heart swells as our eyes embrace.

We feel each other’s authenticity

Wrap around our shoulders

Like a heated blanket on a cold winter night.

I found them running nude up Tiger Mountain

Where we ended our race and listened

To the giant fir tell us how beautiful

Our unadorned bodies are.

My aunt Lola paints skirts on skeletons as she says,.

I like you best when you don't try to please me.

I love you when you are being

The best authentically eccentric you

You can be.