Somewhere I picked up the terrible habit
Of answering Rachel absently
Mm-HMM,
With a hard accent on the second syllable,
Like, Say WHAT? Or ‘Scuse ME?
So that what sounds like it should be agreement,
Oh my yes indeed
Comes across as reproach,
You want it WHEN?
You really believe THAT?
Rachel looks at me like a fruity professor
Correcting her on matters of everything
From architecture to history to
And I sound like a consummate ass
But I don’t know I’m doing it
And evidently, deep down
That must be who I am
The guy who waits for other people to make mistakes
So he can slither down from his pillar
And make the correction with a bonk.
Oh DEAR, pas MOI, ma CHERE.
They told me if Went to Europe it would change me forever
And I look in the mirror and see Transylvania
I must guard against this tendency with all that is in me, Oh NO!
I have always been a know-it-all
But until now I have kept that information to myself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem