I must thank you for your insight, truly,

What intellect! The Cartesian ego ever-inflating,

Expanding, an erudition elucidated, evinced, 

Please, continue, keep going, you fascinate me, 

You with your god-granted smarts, wholly other, 

That you had express delivered to the door.

Do teach me the rules of the game, after all, 

I am but a mere player, born of rib of

His: ever meek, ever mild, 

And you the grandmaster ex officio, 

Move the pieces as you please, keep me 

In check, matey mate, chummy chum,

You with my very best interests at heart. 

And I shall try my very best to meet 

Your expectations, your strategies, 

War plans, arsenal of tactful words, 

And I shall not speak throughout, 

Except when I have the upper hand to play,

The queen’s gamble, and you do not, but 

Impossible, I know. You know everything 

There is to know, and I know nothing at all, 

My cri de coeur lost to pathetic whims, 

Little wins pawned off. A king is never dethroned,

You say, the incumbent, growing complacent, 

But nolite te bastardes carborundorum

rings true in my less-worthy head, 

The dash and jolt of revisionism, of usurpation,

You sit pretty as I unseat the crown, 

Pretend to break a sweat, huff a little,

So as to not disqualify your high horse.  

Me, belittled? You shrink down.

You beg the question. Did I ask? 

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