I am convinced I know nothing
when asked for specifics.
I appreciate vague ideas I can misconstrue,
so that I might get ahead in a conversation
that I have decided is uncomfortable.
I am wary of subjects I am familiar with.
Undue questions are deceiving.
As if, my abilities to attend to small details
were an indication of intelligence,
or a supposed lack thereof.
I get no reference to this, that, or the other
despite entertaining ideas I do not care for.