Reason 17 Of 28 Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

You tutored me.
Can still recite by rote
the who and whom begats.
On details drilled I mastered cues
to quote the anecdote
and when to laugh or sigh
'mid tales distilled
of rogues revealed,
a fateful curse fulfilled.
Can catalogue the foods
you love and hate,
the stars, the styles.
In dos and don'ts
I'm skilled in guessing
just the trait
that you'll berate or praise.
And I've complied without debate.
The times I bit my tongue
you can't believe,
while on your final judgment
I'd await.
God damn you!
Where'd I fail you?
You can't leave me.
Can it come to this?
What will I do?
What good'll be
my PhD. in you?