Monday, January 16, 2012

The Truth Is...

I could tell you that I have an idiot brother,
Who doesn't eat anything but boxed mac n cheese,
Or that my aunt was an eccentric movie star,
Who would only wear pink and sequins.
I could say that I have a house in Canada,
That I go to, for secret weekend assignments.
A place where you can look out the window
And see the clouds beneath the treetops.
I could tell you that on New Year's Eve,
It is my tradition to eat sand crabs, from Spain,
And they taste just like dirt,
But they have spiritual significance.
I potentially might maybe have an extra bone
In each ear, that makes my hearing ultra keen.
So, I can hear conversations from next door,
Through the walls, sometimes.
And speaking of walls, there might be some
Top secret documents pasted behind the drywall
In the back of my bedroom closet,
Behind the gray and black portions of my wardrobe.
I might have a chip in my head
That tells me when there is a sale on at Spencer's,
And it might tell me a lot of other things, too -
Such as which dogs at the pet store are sickly
And which ones will be hardy and loyal.
Maybe one year, I lost both of my pinky toenails
In freefall accidents - but I didn't bump my head.
Perhaps the light bulbs in my home emit
A certain spectrum that makes it possible
For me to see inside your mind
And know your soul's wishes.

But, no.
The truth is, I did very little, today.
And I have a vivid imagination.
The honest truth is just, I love you.


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