Why We Sigh When We Lie Poem by John Sensele

Tell me not, in sanguine slang
Humility counts for nothing
Blown cold, grown old on the whims of the tongue
Reminding us not to belittle and pour spittle on everything

Etiquette dry-cleans in tact
We pack in stacks of esteem
We inject in elevating contact
With the least of souls in the team

We strive to build and shield
From vagaries of attitude
That distills the yield in the field
Where we retrieve deserved latitude from the gratitude

We source from respect resources in our discourse
With the interlocutor
Into whom we run away from the golf course
Where we drop the mantle of a pompous prosecutor.