A Poet in Disguise
I am turning half of my garage into an office space so I will have more room to scatter my unorganized thoughts into even bigger piles. Of course, my neighbor had to mosey on over to see just what all the commotion was about. When I told him my plan was to give me more space to burn the midnight oil writing poetry, he looked at me with a puzzled look on his face. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “Well I’ll be darn, you certainly don’t look like a poet.” When I asked him what a poet should look like, he said, “You know… long hair, a goatee and a turtleneck shirt. Maybe round rose-colored glasses.” I guess now I know what the problem is. I don’t have a turtleneck.
Reality is
what we believe to be true
not what is the truth
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