The truth came by this morning.
It sat down, politely, on a chair
of it’s own design.
We asked if it was correct.
It said, “Not especially.”
Then it lit a cigarette made of questions
and exhaled a diagram.
Someone applauded.
Someone else took notes
By noon, the chair had folded into a paper bird
and flown into a bookshelf.
The truth? Still hovering,
half in love with the ceiling fan.
We stopped asking if it was right.
We started asking if it would stay
long enough to hum.
Ceteris Paribus 