Cellophane Snobbery

Little Harry Lovelace preens

in transparent cellophane snobbery,

chasing shadows of believability,

gagging on leftover syllables,

pretense of someone special.

Merely a little peacock strutting alone

hiding mundane thoughts in mask of words,

thrown into frenzied crowd of snobs,

stripped of dignity and common sense.

In his vague attempt to absorb culture,

his charmed grace has lost its sparkle,

attempting to become what he’s not.

Little Harry’s mouth drips hypocrisy

fogged mirror reflects nothing more

             than his breath.