welcome to conformitypopulation infinity
where trash cans form a
silent dawn patrol, transversing
dewy lawns
and in every home, pestilential secrets are sealed, the hinges on every door
weakened by promises left desolate
these freak flags won’t fly here without
invoking a bloodless coup
Out Where the Buses Don't Run 
Recovering conformist here. Recovering Catholic, too. It took me nearly half a century to realize I don’t play well with others. Unless they’re smart (not smart-ass) and like to read.