The Truth Is There Poem by Dante' Camerlengo

Look...,
The truth is there, under the rug
with the crumbs and the hair
of the dog.
I don’t want to see it, so I swept it there
and there is where it’ll stay
until another encore of Spring—
when I beat it out with a stick.

But I’ll leave the windows open
all Summer; it’ll be back,
eventually, covering everything.
And sometime next Fall,
before people stop in,
I’ll put it back under there;
spend the Winter sweepin’
up theirs.