A POEM - THE LIAR

THE LIAR
Clayton came in,
Opened up that yapper of his,
Told me that back home,
Which for him was Kansas City,
That he’d go in and out of groups of friends.
It didn’t surprise me.
He was a weird little fucker,
Sweaty and twisted and twitching.
“but this one group,” he said,
“was entirely comprised of liars.
We’d all just come home-
I mean, we all lived together.
But yeah, we’d all just come home,
Sit around the kitchen table
And tell each other lies.”
“oh yeah?” I asked.
“yeah. We’d go in a circle,
Around the table.
We’d just look each other in the eyes and tell lies.”
After saying this, he stood there,
Smiling and blinking.
He was a strange little turd, Clayton.
But I had him figured out.
I knew his kind.
“you know what, Clayton?” I said.
“what?”
“I think you’re full of shit!”