In my early 20's,

When I was a simplistic University student of the Law,

One of my less popular professors

Romanticized dinner table conversations,

So much so I felt,

That the apex of my life would entail,

A highly academic discussion,

With highly academic folks,

Over a highly uncommon meal,

At a highly intimidating restaurant,

In highly attractive attire.


3/4 of a decade later,

I am in the scene aforementioned,

But I am nowhere near the apex of my life.


The topic of discussion is fish.

And someone says,

"I came across a woman smoking fish the other day..."

And my mind,

In it's quintessential mechanizations,

Pictures a woman,

Rolling powdered fish in a tiny piece of paper,

Places it on her lips full as her hips,

And lights up.


What kind of a mind is this,

That thinks of drugs when it should think of food?


Dear one of my less liked professors,

One of your less liked students is an active participant,

In your most romanticized intelligent dinner table discussions.

He might make you proud,

But in his mind,

Is a woman smoking fish.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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