Conversing with a friend the other day,
my middle finger only rose three times.
She didn’t see it (phone call), but the way
she spoke, indignant and unfairly harsh,
as if she were expert, as if her say
should be regarded as the only word
on courts where she’s too indolent to play,
that triggered me like powerful enzymes.
But I forbore. She’s not my protégé.