party
after a drink or two
the conversation heats up,
and true
colors at last
are shown.
i breezily mention that i
don't care
for this new Nobel Prize
winner
for Literature.
i think what she writes is
incomprehensible
gibberish.
to which the woman across
the room,
wearing clunky jewelry,
like they wear
in Cleveland Park,
says, well,
that's because you're a man.
swords are drawn.
it's going to be fun night
after all.
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