He doesn’t know the guy.
Though whisperers paint otherwise
All this history of crimes
is hearsay, hype.
Truth lies elsewhere, on the blind side.
It’s too abstract, almost like air.
Proof, proof, proof! We’ll not split hairs.

This sketch, pen & ink,
fixes the elusive face of him
who says, “Maybe no, maybe yes.”
Logic deems he’s neither here nor there
& empirical connection
vanishes everyday
But his heart falters
“This is it, this is what
all conversations have arrived at –
It takes only a second to thin-slice
when you put a body to a name.”

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