Like oil on the pavement,
the truth lies silently and waiting
for a body to put the wrong foot forward

It expects that the gent will slide
and possibly topple
(to one knee, or do a sort of
split that may just rip his trousers)
letting his briefcase fly
and crack and
let go of all his secrets

It will stain his knee so
everyone knows he fell and
it will paint his shoes
to leave a trail so
everybody knows where he
came from

It will keep eyes on him
just long enough to make him
feel like he
did something wrong
and most importantly

it will remain after he’s
come and gone
laying in wait to
catch another care-
less liar unawares