Upon Meeting Dr. Smith
by Edward Gordon
In He comes with His insulting silence;
It lets me know if i mattered He’d speak.
i don’t know His name (we never did meet),
But what kind of rube would not kiss His feet?
He’s better than me, so how’d i miss it?
With stature like mine it’s not hard to do.
Tried a “hello,” but to Him i just spit:
There are no hello’s from such dwindled bits.
i’m trash with a privilege to listen to
The greater-than-me who mumbles his words,
While knowing i’m cursed to do all i can
To keep me the mouse that keeps him The Man.
i’m chronically insignificant.
i could live with it if He’d leave the room,
But here He is with His butt in my chair,
So what can i do but not breathe his air?
© 2009 Edward J. Gordon. All rights reserved.