We are the ones that fly over the cuckoo’s nest to thwart the killers of the mockingbirds.
We are the Huckleberry Finns, the Yossarians and the Holden Caulfields.
We are the camel that goes through the eye of the needle and the straw that breaks its back.
While we casually follow the voting at the local board meetings, making sure selfish agendas don’t slip by unnoticed, we tally our own missteps that have led to the obsolete voices in the snatch of our learned lessons we wish we had to share.
We carefully tiptoe around the debris befallen in our miscues to eventually lead the way on a path that no one dare follow.
We don’t preach or profess our worthiness and are humble to a fault, but we’re the first at sniggering and sardonicism, leaving nothing left behind to cry for, like spilt milk after a good joke.
Aware that we are all pieces of God, broken off but someday to return, the Ne’er Do Wells tend to meetings alone, seeking fortunes in our imperfections.
We find comfort together in our solitude that we have somehow, with no hope of retaining, contrived to share.
As a true Ne’er Do Well, you’d do well to question my picnic as quite the load.
That’s fine; I’ll just take it with me.
Willie Kiernan is a past editor of the Cazenovia Republican and a contributing columnist. He can be reached at email@example.com.