PROUST'S AILMENTS

They called me Marcel
at school
in French class
a few library books
in my awkward arms
with my own timorous fears
of a body language
in conjunction
to blunted implications
of your appearance
in a picture of Combray
my poems
on my locker's mirror
minding me
of a nascent torment
from others
with a breadth of familiarity
escaping doubt
of my future
but knowing the reality
of all your nightmares
insufferable pains,
worry, anxiety
hypochondria
may emerge as art
accepted in the innocent.