Have you ever been caught in a barroom conversation that leaves you scratching your head? Perhaps it’s not limited to a barroom, I’ve had many such conversations in a variety of locations coffee shops, bus stops, waiting rooms and so forth, in fact, the potential for such a conversation to take place is vast and I believe they are possible in any location but they do appear more common whenever you are captive for any period of time and escape seems futile. Smokers I believe endure this frequently and such conversation have led to many prematurely discarded cigarettes. Tall Tales is a poem I wrote inspired by such conversations.


A man wearing a suit and a tie

Speaking in such detail

Anyone was sure to believe his lies

Always wins and never seems to fail

Nobody was asking him why

He ordered another pale ale

He’s set to stay a while

Talking to anyone willing to listen to his tall tales

I was waiting for time to pass by

Drinking another cocktail

With a heavy pour of Sazerac straight rye

But the customers bailed

And I must have caught his eye

Said he graduated from Yale

With a Phd in Poli-Sci

I was like a dog chasing his tail

Not achieving much listening to this guy

It felt like blackmail

As my next drink he did buy

His words floated like a contrail

Just hanging in the sky

Told me he found the Holy Grail

When he rode the Sante Fe Trail

On the back of a majestic Clydesdale

Said it only took him a few days

Then he made his way east

Leaving behind his magnificent beast

He went on to set sail

But his boat capsized

And he was swallowed whole by a whale

Sure he would die

He still found a way to survive

And made it out of the belly alive

He told me

He tamed a lion in Nairobi

Became a well- respected Yogi

And wandered for months in the Gobi

His lies were making me tired and sick

I don’t know about Moby

But he certainly seemed like a dick

Yet I kept listening because

He wanted me to believe

He was the man he wanted to be

And not the man who he was

Who was I to turn and be gone

After all is said and done

I don’t know if I’m the man I want to be

Or just the man I’ve become