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A Myth

By Ansie Baird

He was like a myth. Half

of what he said made sense

half the time, the other half

was composed of old stories

you half believed were true.

Hocus-Pocus came in handy,

handy-dandy when you had

need of another anecdote

and the fake characters kept

slipping in and out of focus.

He could reconstruct or wave

a wand and elaborate castles would

rise up out of swamps but the myth

remained intact, which explains

everything except the answers.

Shifting shape. Shape-shifting.

He was like a myth. You could

believe in him but at a high risk.

ANSIE BAIRD will join Rochester-based poet Jennifer Grotz as the featured readers at the next Just Buffalo Literary Café at 7:30 p.m. Wednesday at the Center for Inquiry, 1310 Sweet Home Road in Amherst.