Truth-teller fashion what you say.
Truth-teller I know who you might be.
I have been much the same in a life so distant.
This glass box we construct, cracked and broken from dishonesties we tell our selves:
Look at all around, everything around, see it naked, not as fairytales carried upon a fancy.
Truth-teller fancy yourself, fashion yourself as something else and be done.
Both honest and dishonest break under their own weight, public interest turns
Towards some golden speck seen as new or reminiscently awing.
It is the realization that the carnival closed for the summer a fortnight ago
And the warm ocean surf of tiny New England hamlets rests in the Caribbean winter.
Whatever you decide, Truth-teller, I wish not to hear.