I thought Mrs. Asp wise and inscrutable,
sitting in her rocking chair, bespectacled, knitting
and saying little, deep in her own thoughts.

Turns out she had Alzheimer's.

I asked him
the secrets to
a happy marriage
so he pulled a note card
from his wallet
and handed it to me

It read:

The Rules

1. Don't beat the wife
2. Don't traffic the kids
3. Don't kick the dog

Good advice.

Take a "moderately gifted" child,
expose him to a crazy stepmother
and let nature take its course.
Mission accomplished.

Victory in the morning,
cancer in the afternoon,
dark night on the way,
these are the dominoes falling,
this is your past catching
up to you our ruling elite,
America's so called Best and Brightest.

Not pretty enough to be a model,
too pretty to be a poet
my mother thought, so she
became an executive secretary
in the days before computers,
typing ninety words a minute

And she was an inch
taller than Sylvia Plath

Faster than an old fashioned slide rule,
stronger than any AI,
able to leap tall algorithms in a single bound,
he is the master of all things technological.

Unafraid of math, science, AP exams,
poking fun at dumb jocks and mean girls,
getting the better of hoods and bullies,
defender of outcasts and the downtrodden,
a purveyor of all that is intellectual,
he is the hero we need in these difficult times,

So, give it up for Super Nerd!

You wanted a ticker tape parade.
You wanted a Rolex.
You wanted a closet filled with designer clothes.
You wanted a trophy case the size of a yacht.
You wanted to be Lebron James.
You wanted to be David Bowie.
You wanted friends in High Places.
You wanted an arena full of screaming fans.
You wanted The Grand Prize.

What you got was a quiet country road
and sensible shoes to walk it.

That's more than enough.