Every day, I come to eat And you are there. You shuffle Among the tables, Among all of us, And we see you But pretend You really aren't there. You make us Nervous, ill-at-ease, Embarrassed, For you are not One of us. We exist In our world Of books And abstract thought, While you Wander to and fro Mopping up Our crumbs And clumsy spills. We speak of Tennyson and Thoreau, Of muons And monetary Collapse, of rats And mazes And abstruse Greek Nouns and verbs. We babble Of our knowledge-- And pretend You aren't there. But you make us See you, As, smiling, You pass by. Your cheery "Hi!" Cuts through Our icy walls And makes us Remember That God Might've made us Like you, Instead of who We are. We could Be mopping tables, While you Discussed ancient Fables with Your friends. Just a gene Nudged another way-- And all our lives Would be swept Away, spent Wiping endless specks From endless tables.
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