A Banal Curse

I once knew a poor fellow.
Love crouched in him like a wounded child.
Something in him often wanted to hug
the crowds that passed him in the street.
But when he smiled, something—a gene,
a tic, a reflex from an unexpected
slap—made the smile ugly, an evil smile.
Everyone looked at him with suspicion. No matter
how much I tried to persuade him, he thought it was hate.