I am not Peter Pan. I merely am
a lost, forgotten member of the gang
who hangs around while Peter steals the show.
While Peter flies and flirts with Tinkerbell
I stand alone, half-hidden in the back
behind the scenery and the other kids.
I’m here in Neverland to fill the scene,
a cardboard cutout would do just as well.
It isn’t that I’ve lost my marbles. No,
I’ve never had a memory to lose
or make. My job is just to hang around
pretending I am talking, listening,
and doing something, anything at all.
But there is nothing here for me to do
because I am not Peter. I’m not Pan.