57 (13 lies)



The truth is, I only tell 13 lies.

Lie no. 2: I lie in praise of heaven.

Three: this is between just the two of us.

Four: in the silence we share, we are whole.

Yes, I heard you (five), I was listening.

Of course it matters to me.  Very much.

No, it doesn't bother me, it's nothing.

Da-ding … lucky 7s, ding, jackpot.

For every lie, I'll give you a nickel.

A lie is a live heart, hopping in dust.

Just a few minutes after eleven.

You and I, we are a dozen goodbyes.

A better lie is a fountain of youth.

Without lies, none of us are beautiful.



originally published in Pen Poetry Series