Autobiographies

Culture Trip

Call them the sums
of all the lives
we never lived,
tales we tell
ourselves and others
of fictive worlds
more real than real.

We don’t know what
really happened,
but vividly recall
each imagined event.

Who, what, when, where;
how reductively mundane.

Better to inhabit our
own glorious paintings,
our own vast canvasses
painted by our hands
with our own brushes.

Arcane enigmas of the human.

There is no true,
there are no lies,

only the creations
we call our lives.