a secular upward trend in vapid glee
as flowers their idle sweets exhale, relays
love to the fathomed packhorse so-and-so,
the bees drowse out, investment peaks and suds
of gayer prattle pong from washed-out mouths,
the grace of trended variables to be borne
not of yourselves, nor yet to tease awry
the flat-out frown and all it militates
in favour of as wrapped in plastic rags
an Afric baby slender as an elf
sidles in picturesque sedition, in
time to the beat of the fist in your heart which sprung
open reveals the grip you achieve on love,
as you see fit to lunge at it, timing a gag in the dark
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