Sycophants in Spring (a poem)

The world wakes up each spring
I notice warped smiles
Birdsong is back, hideous
On sunny, manic blue-sky days
An energy is something
You feel in the body
The way trauma is stored
Each time psychosomatic
Tensions mount
A naked man smiled at me in the
Bread aisle, and what a smile!
I noticed the weariness of
His wrinkled face and I remembered
Not everything is well
There are sycophants among us
They hide in sticky crowds
They could be anywhere, believe me
Spring is a time for violent vigor
And a harbinger of obsession
The sensual beauty out there
Sometimes hides the disdain
And the madness


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