IN TRUTH

IN TRUTH

I’m not sure I’m particularly well-equipped to tell the truth.”
(Jim Harrison)

Can anyone truly tell the truth?
What is truth but an opinion
with some backup and a fan base?
A physicist will tell you
even a full stop is not a full stop
because atoms are always in motion.
Why then, has perpetual motion
eluded us for so long?
If, as some claim,
there is an alternate reality,
which reality is real,
which one is true?
Is truth created by repetition,
by being viewed in hindsight,
by the quelling of our fears?

DEVIL IN THE DETAILS

Once a year is enough.
Mostly it’s all right but . . . .
beyond the little cuties
in their Wonder Woman
and Spiderman costumes,
beyond squeaky cries
of “Trick or treat, smell my feet . . .”
there are sickos who
put razor blades in candy.

Doorbell rang late,
after the porch light was off.
Looked through the peephole,
saw a bigger kid wearing
a grotesque red mask,
carrying a shopping bag,
and he was seriously
fucked up on something.
Opened the door - stupid.
Kid wasn’t wearing a mask,
he just looked that way.
He didn’t say a word,
just held out his bag with one hand
and scratched himself with the other.

Shoved a fistful of junk in his bag
and closed the door on him.
Watched him from the window
stumble down the driveway,
keying the side of my car
with something he held in his hand.

Gregg Norman lives and writes in a lakeside cottage in Manitoba, Canada, with his wife and a small dog who runs the joint. His poetry has been placed in journals and literary magazines in Canada, USA, UK, Australia and India. He is also the author of four published novels and a novella.