…in ways most others care not
I am labeled ‘autistic,’ but what’s in a stamp?
Seems we’re all but chess pieces played on a board
The name of each piece reflects how worth is scored
Yet each has the guidance to come out a champ
By allowing “The Player” to call each shot.

I focus because it’s the way that I am
I can’t see the board; I’m consumed in each square
The number of possible games to be played
Exceeds that of electrons all ever made
There’s no doubt to my purpose; I am sent here to share
Yet another strategy unique to each jam.

But maybe I’m here to just be a fool
I don’t really play chess; the fact is I suck
If given a choice between chess and some hay
I’d be chewing my cud for the rest of the day
This analogy flattens as if by a truck
Lest I make of it an exquisite tool

Since autism grants me a narrower view
I look at the Game from the inside out
I am privileged to honor each perfect square
And to thank it for letting me spend some time there
There’s no reason to worry. I have no cause to doubt
That the next move is certain, fresh and new.