it's always
so scarce
and at a premium
is that Truth (with
a capital T)
always hits
like this:
first, there's
a burst—a young
spark
of fascination—
followed by
the pubescent flair
of self-
righteous ardor
and its blush
of fascination—
after which,
the giddy flame
of advancement starts
to wildly dance,
and then spread,
and ignite,
incinerate,
and vaporize
not only
Itself, but the whole
observation deck
too badly
for the singed
and now-
traumatized victim
to willingly
(or otherwise)
identify.
