Intricate Art (05/31/02 - 11/06/02)

Your words are like a swordfight:
a parry, then a thrust;
a witty bit of banter;
quick-spoken repartee;
a long-practiced sort of dance --
it comes to you so easily,
and you make it seem simplistic
in each one of its intricacies.

Oh, how I love to dance with you
and your perfected form of art.
Words find themselves reborn as they fall from your lips;
each time I hear them they have new meaning.
Laced now with conviction and underlying irony,
they cut through others with startling precision.
In the eyes of society, however, it seems that genius is your flaw.
Intelligence is ridiculed while the superficial rise above.
"More controversial than Voltaire!" -- words met with snickers and blank stares.
It saddens me to know that I'm the only one that smiled.