She Knows He Lies
She knows he lies.
He tells her when he does.
He lies, he says, only for virtuous purposes
And never to her.
There doesn’t seem to be
Any purpose for him to lie to her.
She knows what she needs to know about him.
He knows that there is nothing he can say
That will excite her in that way,
That will cause her to drift closer
To seek his company.
He confesses to her his lies,
Proves to her that he has lied,
And she is convinced that
Indeed he has.
Sometimes she is amused,
Other times irritated.
He never lies, it seems,
About anything important.
Sometimes she wonders why he tells her
About his lies.
“Do you think I am impressed
Because you confess to me
That you have lied,”
She considers asking him.
She means, does he think
That she thinks
That he is being daring?
No, he explains, even though
She never asks the question.
It’s not that, it’s not that.
Rather, he hopes that his honesty
Will resonate with her,
That his honesty will disable
His penchant to be evasive,
Will reveal to her an aspect of himself
Free of artifice,
And above all else,
Will give them something
About which they may laugh,
When they have run out of things to say.