I test the veracity of my own personal myths to see if they hold water
stories I spin from memory songs I’ve sung along the way
pretty poems I left in seat pockets of jet planes.
Despite the truth I reveal my story remains a mystery
I have hazy recollection of its beginning
the episodes I relate are replete with gaps
rips in my narrative holes in my heart.
I am all ears when it comes to alternate versions
new plot devices I can deploy for happy endings
my heartbeat thumping like wet leaves falling.
The pages pile up a pulpy water-logged tome
I enumerate the volumes catalog them chronologically
more truth in fiction than in facts that’s for sure
there’s the wisdom in this work the wonder of the tale.
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