There is a freedom in inaccuracy,
the tailoring of truth
into what we’d like it to be.
What fits
into our current world view.
Truth is a pollywog
mysteriously appearing
in the swimming pool,
a black velvet drop
of movement
that escapes our searching fingers,
laughing as it leaves.
I can tell you
there is a frog
or a fish
or a unicorn in the pool.
I can see,
and perhaps you can see
clearly
all three.
But the pollywog
is laughing.
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