The truth doesn’t care if I try to hide.
It knows exactly where I am and what
I am doing. It is perhaps like the game
I play while walking downtown
with my daughter. She runs ahead
on the sidewalk, then tucks her body
into a breezeway between buildings.
I pretend I do not see. Vivian? I call.
Vivian? Yooo hoooo. I walk past her,
while looking the other way.
I know that she knows that I know
that she knows that I know where she is.
Here, truth, here I am, I could say. As if I could be
anywhere else. As if I am longing for it to call
out my name so I might run toward it,
my arms open, laughing at the very joy
of being found at last, the joy of knowing
I was never really lost at all.