Everybody thinks he’s smarter than the next guy, and sometimes they’re right. The professor thinks he smarter than his students, the students think they’re smarter than their parents, the poet thinks he’s smarter than the campesino, and the campesino thinks he’s smartest of them all. But mostly people are smarter in one thing but not as smart in other things, so it’s all a wash.

The poet knows not of the wild neutrino
That travels at the stately speed of light
A datum that astounds the campesino
Who asks if light’s so fast how come there’s night
To sculptors marble marks their lives as lithic
The painter lives for pigments and for tints
While I who thinks my life has been terrific
Remembers long times past but nothing since