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Untilted This poem lets you know up front and on the level (more or less) that it's about tricks-- the kind perception plays on you, often with your collusion--when you see what you expect to see which is to say what you want to see or hope to see instead of what is actually there right before your big baby-blues. Let's talk about the time you innocently picked that man in the line-up the one who was at his mother's death bed on the other coast at the precise moment you swore you saw him gun down the liquor store clerk. You say you didn't do this I have you confused with someone else? Well, think about it. Then tell me you have done nothing reprehensible. Consider things that do not seem at first to be matters of life or death: how you judge beauty corruptly your view shaped by money, power, or the aura of money and power; or the lateness of the hour (how close to closing time), the acuteness of your loneliness or lust or greed, how even when you understand this you conspire to live happily ever after.
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