Poor Pinocchio, can’t even lie without his nose telling the truth.
If only people were so simple, though you’d really have to avoid cramped spaces:
poked eyes on subway trains, plugged ears in elevators, thick lips at happy hours…
And what if our ears grew when we refused to hear the truth?
What if our eyes grew when we declined to see what was right before us,
or shrank when we saw what wasn’t there?
Honest faces for devious minds.
It would prove Keats was right, beauty is indeed truth, and truth beauty.
And the rest of us are ugly as Punch.
Anthony Doyle 