This is a document written using ReMarkable, a shorthand syntax for generating HTML.

{	"date"		:	201101091401,
	"updated"	:	201101091401,
	"licence"	:	"copyright"
}

# Etiquette #

In the corner, she sits. _
Her wide-rimmed glasses hung around her neck. _
Her steely-eyed gaze, fixed _
As from the china I sip.

"Pinky out!" she reprises. _
Knowing that it must be drummed in to you. _
Like forks of different sizes _
When just one would do.

<aside>
	† "The quality of having an excessively high opinion of oneself or one's importance"
</aside>

I am told 'Silence is Golden'; _
One wonders if politeness is one-sided, _
For I’m no part of this conversation _
On matters prided.<sup>†</sup>

<aside>
	‡ "A disease of women, characterised by fits of the nervous
	system." _(<source (//oldsturbridgevillage.com/explore_learn/document_viewer.php?DocID=808)>)_
</aside>

Who died and made her queen? _
Profound rightful heiress to all matters esoteric. _
Her subjects go unheard, but seen _
Under laws dreamt up by those hysteric.<sup>‡</sup>

<aside>
	* To "look for and criticize small or insignificant faults or errors; nitpick." ~New Oxford American dictionary~
</aside>

She has me picking at nits,<sup>*</sup> _
Tied up in strings, like her marionette. _
In the corner, she sits _
Lady Etiquette.


* * *

((With thanks to Clint V Franklin for helping me formulate stanzas 3 & 4, and generally finishing the poem off. I’ve been working on this in some form since November 2009.))