Or a Truth

You ordered as if it were a smörgåsbord
In the back of a stretch limo, you know,
Like a long, absurdly expensive car,
Inexplicably crammed with plain people,
Thinking to yourself, you’d like some wild
Lies, but the wildest aren’t weird as truth,
Well, the plain truth, whatever that is,
The sausage you’d rather not watch being
Made, and you noticed, while you emptied
Your plate, that a face or two vanished.
Maybe, you thought placidly, as the limo,
All-electric, glided through the wet night,
Someone has to go anytime someone
Other eagerly consumes a florid lie