I have my little world here. I'm learning to be a writer. You're learning to be a liar. I cross the line, come over there and go..."Hi, whatcha doin?" I make friendly. I tell jokes. I offer prescriptions, for better living, conundrums...not CONDOMS, you idiot! But you should use them. They prevent liars, and 'zombies'. I try honesty, truthfulness, kindness...humor. You ignore...which prevents me the satisfaction of respect and appreciation. That means you have 'bad manners'. That means, you are 'rude'. I wont apologize for you. I forgive you. I know, you hate that I do, because, that gives ME the satisfaction, of winning an argument...that was never really verbal, but it was intentional. I know it was, and so do you. You're a liar, if you say it wasn't. Let me prove you further. If you say "it wasn't"...you admit, it was a 'little childish game.' Or, we could scrub all this, and laugh...because, I 'caught you out', being a little monster, and we could make love. You're a guy? Fancy that. Me too. So, we make love. Maybe, you have a sister? If you're a 'throwback', we could all hop in bed...together, cous'n. I forgive you.
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2016, at Deming, New Mexico
Art: Paintng, Liar's Bench, Sam Sidders, google
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