Last night
was a night of I know nothings.
Surrounded
by scholars,
friends
in their
final year at the University
with me.
It began
with one wrong;
spark ten.
Redden, blush
the heated rush -
so I blend into the couch
and fork rice into my mouth.
Listen, eyes
wide
as
discussion turns
to French
dictators and
literary
craft of the 19th century.
When the
moment comes to prove
your status
among them,
then say
something so
ambiguous
it must be true
and quite
insightful.
