Poem: Truisms

What we accept often bears no relation to what is.

Truisms Truisms, more often than I would like to admit,     turn out not to be true     And I am fond of pointing out     that wherever one travels in this world,     from Brazil to Madagascar,     Ethiopia to the steppes of Russia,     anywhere and everywhere,     people tie their shoelaces in the same way     Except Canadians I don’t know why it is, this special talent of Canadians     to be unlike the world,     to twist a lace the wrong way 'round     and build the bow from bottom topward,     ending upside down     But it’s true and I saw it proven     just last night, when an un-named native     of that second-largest country     bent to tie her shoe And I was dumbfounded, I admit it freely     at a loss and embarrassed for her     when she said ‘that’s how we do it' and smiled, thus branding an entire population backward, consigning a nation to under-loops And yet watch carefully the next time a Canuck     ties their shoes, look for the furtive glance,     a tell-tale covering the bow with cupped hands,     the reason why so many wear loafers It could be cold winters, the isolation of the tundra     or merely considering curling a sport     that breaks the universal legacy,     the father to son,     the mother to daughter     of laces wrapped over fingers, left to right Yet it’s there, a brand upon the forehead     Canadians held apart from the civilized world         unskilled, unknowing, blinded to their fault

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection BROKEN PIECES available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.