I’m Not Saying They Are Liars


When I hear someone claiming
they had an imaginary friend
when they were a kid
I almost say, “bullshit,” but I don’t.

I’m not saying they are liars.
The subconscious believes
what it believes.
If someone wants an audience

bad enough they will say anything.
Not me, but I will shout
bullshit inside my head.
Precocious people are entertaining

but I wouldn’t want to be one.
Did you hear the story
about the farmer’s daughter?
It seems every time she wanted

a good roll in the hay,
there was a salesman sleeping
in her daddy’s barn. See what I mean?
The earth has theatre in its blood.

I’ve been around long enough
to give a guy a break, a leg up,
the benefit of the doubt,
& not to assume the worse.

If reality is a movie, I’m the strong,
silent-type, a man who plays fair,
doesn’t draw first like Gary Cooper
in High Noon, a man who doesn’t pay

much notice, doesn’t give a hoot, or a fig,
or a plug nickel about invisible friends,
a man who shouts “bullshit”
inside his head, downs a shot

of whiskey in one gulp
as he leaves the saloon, tips his hat
to the prostitute he loves
knowing her love for him isn’t real.

Selected byMaria Mazzenga
Image credit:Robin Hall

I have one book of poetry published in Tucson by Moon Pony Press in 2009 titled, The Certainty of Looking Elsewhere. My poetry has been published in numerous small presses including: Dark Horse, Gargoyle, 6ix, Tor House Newsletter, The Moth & Zocalo Magazine.