won't be a stuffed shirt,
or smirky, know-better grin
that will greet you
when you're at the door.

it will be slipped-in
when you least expect it;
it'll be when Fatty Simpson says,
"we gotta let you in on this test."

you have an internet degree
and still know nothing,
and won't as long as you look
in a blank, broken mirror.

so gathered around you is detritus
that you salute in your ignorance
and give a queen's wave
to the puerile people who live.

10/06/2005