Veracities
No one ever said anything of any
importance during those long, lonely years at the
dinner table. Awkward ugly silences filled
with talk of pars of roughs of lies
as metaphor for truth
while discussing this club used in that sand trap
or that swing always creating this slice or that bogie
as if each item offered legitimacy for life itself
instead of thinking or taking part
reality sparked their unique shorthand and
drowned out veracity as strongly as scotch
or gin or failure or even
the loss of dreams.
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