Fame (villanelle)...

I wish being human were a sense I could savor

but when I step into light, with my fame in tow,

I see all the worst people on their best behavior.

Oh, just to earn a smile by my kindness, my labor,

My folly – instead of my conspicuous glow:

I wish being human were a sense I could savor.

To build a friend from nothing but a favorite flavor

Or a song, not “You were real on the late-night show.”

I meet all the worst people on their best behavior.

To approach from the back edge, say “hello” to her, then waver

In her gaze – but no: she fawns (I'm a poster in her studio).

I wish being human were a sense I could savor.

To be groaned at in a slow line, or ignored by a waiter,

Before – by my face, voice, or coat tails – they know

And scattle under the appliances of their best behavior.

To be found, and accepted, as charming (not a savior –

Just disarming enough to leave a raw patch when I go).

I wish being human were a sense I could savor.

But I only see people on their best behavior:

All the best people

on their worst

behavior;

All the worst

people

on their

best

behavior.