Seven
I am seven when my brother tells me
Santa is not real.
This is not news to me.
I cry although I always knew
to let adults lie.
Especially, if it means
we can fake our smiles
for a family photo
to hang on
everyone’s perfect fridge.
3 thoughts on "Seven"
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Great choice to give “let adults lie” its own line.
Thank you!
captures how children intuitively understand we are complicit in collective lies that hold the group together