People say they love my honesty, but honestly,
I'm a liar and a thief. I would steal your mother
and help you look for her. What was she wearing?
Large breasts or small? Truly, I have a prurient
bent. I sometimes incline towards pure prurience.
But at least I'm honest about it. I am up front
at the adult movie theater. I'm in the first row
where there's nothing between me and these
fine actors, some of whom are really very fine—
I mean they're so convincing, I believe they are
in love. I believe I am in love. I mean that's how
good they are. But me, I'm not a good person. I would
pocket your twenty if I found it on the floor of
your car. I would borrow your car without asking you.
I would steal your line and put it in my poem without
crediting you. I would sleep with your mother
if she were good looking enough and willing. Honestly,
I am not an honest person and this poem is not
an honest poem. It expresses feelings and beliefs that
I have never felt or entertained. It's a sad day when
someone like you lets someone like me get away
with something like this. What were you thinking?
Paul reads "Confessional Poem":
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Paul confesses: "It's true. It's a paradox. I'm very honest, but I lie a lot. And I steal here and there. 'Tell the truth but tell it slant.' I'm monogamous, diffident and very shy. But I'm also a horny old bastard and a dirty old man."