Grifters Among Us
by Mercedes Lawry
Evenings of trickery. This man is not
this man, but a puff of lies. He winnows
and feigns in a welter of oily words.
All promise just out of reach, a plane
of contentment, drizzle of luxury,
at least what is deserved. Thin man,
fat man, hands like disappearing birds.
He makes a point, makes it twice
and backwards. Here, there, the gullible
pull their heads up and breathe
the rarified air. We might be somebody else,
they think, and better. The con is on,
the grifter clicking his yellow teeth,
his wolf-smile every bit as glinty
as a Jupiter moon.
Gyroscope Review 36
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