A wryness against rue,
flirtation for true.

A wont to blatantly point out
when brothers just pointlessly pout.

Though unbridled by conscience
in Sci-biz land hell
Sap runs both ways
tween mindful brains
and thoughtful hearts –

like sun's reciprocating layer
beneath th'appalled corona
gazing down at lost Mankind,
plague on countless Earthling species.

Behind a requisite mask
a grimace not without grin,
in uphill trudge suspicious
hints of saunter –
those squinty tears against the driven hail –
is that the spark of joy?

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