I am pissed off at Truth.

Truth always wins,
no matter how hard I try.
Truth and I have an uneasy relationship
at the best of times
but lately, Truth cheats.

Have you ever arm-wrestled with Truth?
It is not easy.
I sweat, and pull, grunt and fight.
Truth is placid as a the lunar surface.
I perspire, torrents of moisture,
the envy of waterfalls everywhere,
Truth is dry as the desert floor.
I curse, whine, piss and moan,
swear like a trucker with crabs.
Truth blows pink bubbles of gum.

Truth wins yet again.

And Truth keeps victories silent,
never needing to preen, or gloat.
Truth simply accepts that Truth should win.

I tell my friends that
Truth came in next to last.

©2009 Christopher Reilley

This poem is in the collection Breathing for Clouds, you can get a copy HERE

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