It was coincidence that
Truth hit the margin so hard
it made the big
T.
The answers were always,
just lying there. True or False.
The truth was filed away,
in the oven,
on ice,
just beyond the horizon,
outside of our reach,
out in front of us and
most visible on our fore-
heads. Indicators of attention
-span.
Granted, little u's
the q's so well,
as if wedded to one another.
Infinitesimally too quantum
to separate
from the microclimate
too minuscule
to divide or conquer
or entitle affectionately
Grand Fallacy.
So the tee's were crossed and
the eyes forgot
where to aim
the sentence.
Painting by Henry Stacy Marks [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
