"You have to be careful not to get anything stuck in the kink of your intestine"*,
Said one lady to another as they passed me by, a fragment of a conversation
To ponder and wonder what came before and what came after those words of advice.
I'll never know, of course, but I can make stuff up and make it sound plausible,
Jumping on the international bandwagon for that journey into fiction or faction
When reality and fakery are welded together by deliberate chicanery and mischief,
Or by snowballing gossip, gathering speed on a road
of more diversions than a Chinese whisper.
Truth is not like the man who came to our school and twisted balloons into animal shapes.
Truth, in its pure straightness, has no bends, no twists and definitely no kinks.
*Overheard in the lobby of the Europa Hotel, Belfast, March 2017