From Return to Open Water, published by Ronsdale Press in 2007.
When someone asks you for the truth, for God’s sake, lie. Give them what they want. And if they ask again, lie a second time, a third, a fourth, until you’re hoarse; sign every paper they slide across to you, their finger on the line, where they ask you for your house, your car, your stocks; pay the interest on your debt, accept the truth, stand before the camera and tell them how it was, how it’s all true—you blew up that bridge, stole those plans, took your boss’s wife to Palm Beach; for you have been to Hell and back these last few weeks, and deserve no less than an end to lies, fine print, and sound bites, not to mention sleep, what with all you’ve had to swallow just to stand here in my place and defend those actions you know nothing of, denied a chance to say what you do know, while I stand in for you, with my briefcase and my files, whispering in your ear, that what you say in this court matters not, that you know yourself at last (I squeeze your arm), that truth is a lie.