(for Ben Hatke)
His mortal eyes are looking through your heart.
You’re dumb enough to think that you can hide.
But you will learn there is no cryptic art
His glance can’t penetrate. If you have tried,
And if with your attempt you’re satisfied,
It only means he’s still two moves ahead.
When your soul dared to flash a grin, it lied.
It should have trembled, little man, instead.
The sum of all your subtlety he’s read
Already: he reads all such pages fast.
He makes himself the shadow that you dread.
Your inner sky is swiftly overcast.
He knows the thoughts you haven’t yet confessed.
At least you’ve figured out he’s not impressed.