Well, of course you crave an invitation
to our soirées, whose rarified atmosphere
hosts only the hoi aristoi
(that’s optimates to vulgar Romanophiles),
a caviar audience comprising
the moneyed and well-heeled, 
white-shoe financiers and philanthropists,
literati and cognoscenti
(plus the culturati who worship them), 
the smart set and intelligentsia
whose right-thinking bien pensants
determine for inferiors the bon ton
and boundaries of civilized opinion. 

Pretenders who seek an entrée
to our exclusive salons and
desperately aspire to join the gentility
(highbrow snobocracy, if you insist),
must ever adhere to orthopraxy,
eschew all manner of gaucherie,
and utter only the effable while
in the presence of the elite,
sophisticates whose refined
sensibilities and feelings are fragile. 

Naturally, we must turn away many
to admit the very select few;
perhaps in good time you’ll prove
clubbable, fashionable, acceptable,
though I’d recommend low expectations
to mitigate crushing disappointment. 

And, yes, since you’re wondering anyway,
the cocktails and canapés are to die for. 

Brandon Marlon is a writer from Ottawa, Canada. He received his B.A. in Drama & English from the University of Toronto and his M.A. in English from the University of Victoria. His poetry was awarded the Harry Hoyt Lacey Prize in Poetry (Fall 2015), and his writing has been published in 300+ publications in 33 countries. www.brandonmarlon.com