I’m in Harvard’s Widener Library,
funny place for me to be
considering my pedigree, and (let’s face it)
my basic intelligence (or lack thereof).
But I’m here taking a night class, studying
and learning, commiserating with
other students, all of whom
are smarter than me. But
if I don’t tell them that my father was
a car mechanic and his father a butcher how
will they ever know? What
would most impress me would be to earn
a PhD in Philosophy from Harvard
University (found Robert Nozick’s office,
315 Emerson Hall, stood there contemplating,
then brushed up against it, trying to
absorb his philosophic ether which
was hanging no doubt in the stale hall air).
Of course, there is as much chance
of this happening as Neanderthal coming back
to life. But I can’t fix my car either
like Dad could, so have spurned my lineage,
and am denied my academic
aspirations, caught between first
and second. Neanderthal indeed. Hey!
My daughter just scored 700
on her math SAT! Yikes! There’s hope
for us yet. Do you think they’ll clone
a Neanderthal one of these days?