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Smart

“...truth tends to reveal its highest wisdom in the guise of simplicity.”
    ~ Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human: A Book for Free Spirits, chapter 609

She thinks she’s smarter than me
Though she’s held up four lanes of I-95 to make an exit
Holds a CompSci degree that’s made her no code slinger
Can’t read maps won’t drop that accent
Or carry a tune after years hearing me at music practice
On what ground can I argue
Where like the wise mushrooms she alone sees amongst dead foliage
She’s at this moment
Sensing what someone needs to hear
Finding just how to communicate it
Knowing the full sensual beauty of everyone
Her own and, surprisingly, mine
Gradually teaching me how to listen
To become more musical
And how being the apparently-well-calibrated component I am
Of the economic and social machine
That’s left me in a dazed semblance of intellect
To recognize she clears all of it from the way
In which I too become smart

Thanks always returns

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