Enthusiasm

I saw through enthusiasm
like a child sees through
the easter bunny to the man
walking down the street in
a bunny suit

I saw through enthusiasm
too easily, and dismissing
in melancholy realism
the love I had, I threw
the rare book in the trash
it had begun to mold
and grandfather had cut
a pattern from the cover
and no one was ever
going to be interested in
Craftsman homes again

I saw through enthusiasm
like a child realizes
there is no santa claus
bearing gifts, but a man
in santa suit

I saw through enthusiasm
too easily, to be swept up
in discovery, as if by
the tide, to fall blindly
in love with an idea
who would come to use it
who would not ridicule its
simplicity, so I never made
anything of it

Now, I see through ghosts
the past, lackluster years
the cost of never
falling in love
enough to stop seeing
through enthusiasm
to stop being a
con man conned into
giving the envelope back
to the old fool