There is nothing funny
about perfection,
though the smiles
which pass by me
on these blithe sidewalk passengers
are tracking much more like
amused than happy.
And yet,
there must be something
rare which is trapped
in the bright April wind
which makes us
want to laugh—
and not from the inexorable
glee of satisfaction,
but as if
we've all just been
taken-in
by some fiendishly clever
immaculate trick.
