Poem: Panoptic

 

Panoptic

 

fine leather soles 

rush to the daily crisis,

minds staggering in a slog

to decipher the latest incident

of the manifesto.

faces make waves

but only in sync,

alloyed to hard smiles

which dig with strain

into mountainsides

of cheekbone.

they bat around hello

so that i’m fine

can bounce off and you?

as if a jigger

or two of numbness

could cure the day,

keep the ache mild,

no bridle required

for grinding teeth. 

prim eyes 

flash a thrill

or conjure up sympathy;

for they see what audience

they were taught to know;

and perceive

for the same reason as

the many other actors

who fish for clues and

compliments, 

and who look out, as well,

just the same.

 

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10/16/25 ... mods all day