The light must’ve played tricks
with my eyes. But my eyes were
always so gullible when they
wanted to be.
They can spot a phony like a dog
can sniff out an escaped con.
But, with a blink and my mind’s wink,
I could believe you’re there before me.
Or they could believe the lie
when you were. Perhaps that’s why
the dark, so scary in my youth,
emerged my ally as an adult.
In the dark there are no illusionist’s tricks.
There’s just the truth of nothing.
And dark nothing beats dazzling nothing
standing right in front of you.
Didn’t want to write a poem today, but storyteller Joe didn’t wish to play in prose. Maybe, now that this verse-type scab’s torn off, that other kind of story might allow its telling.