Disappointing Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

The one thing disappointing,
In researching...
The origin of deception.
Is the starting of it.
To discover,
Volumes upon volumes.
With each rewritten.
More enhanced,
Than others.
Depicting warriors pictured.
Posing in fantastic costumes.
And polished muskets.
Without a trace of dust,
Anywhere.
Not even on the leather covers,
Of the freshly printed...
And stacked volumes.
Claimed to have been stored,
For centuries.
In basements of ancient ruins.

Until archaeologists,
Experts in the field...
Of finding,
Yet,
More new revealing stuff.
Accidentally found,
These treasured gems.
Under tons of rumble.

And...
Coincidentally assisted,
By a curator hired.
To film and oversee,
The project.
For a museum recently built,
Opening soon.
But...
Has been for months,
Advertising to market...
Tickets and memberships.
To the ones who first respond,
Desiring to research through...
Historic relics,
That updates a lost...
Past.
No one ever knew...
Before like this,
To have existed.

'Did you see what I saw?
I could not go through,
All of the volumes.
However...
I did copy the email address,
Printed inside...
One of them.
To request pictures,
Of the costumes...
Some of those warriors wore! '

'I noticed that myself.
But...
Those boots.
Those boots,
They were wearing?
I saw a pair like them.'

'That's impossible!
Where? '

'At the mall.
Expensive too.
And...
They must have been,
On display for awhile.'

'Why do you say that? '

'I tried a pair on.
After the sales agent,
Wiped the dust off of them.'

'How much were they? '

'I'll just say,
They will be collecting dust...
For a very long time.'

'Whatever the reason,
Marketing will handle it.'

'Yeah!
Economics 101.'