Two girls stand before me.

One
seems genuine.

Her fluttering hands
give breathy assurance.

Could it be she?

She has always
performed impeccably
strode forward all eager
                        beaming face
compliant palms.
offered unsought assistances
                        compliments.

Neon eyes argue...

The other stands
                        mute
an asphyxiated Kewpie
relying on projection
practised unctuous aura.
Her insincere sincerity
                scapegoat eyes
disturb.
Unconsciously
        she leans toward me.

Obscene closeness
irritating disingenuousness argues...

Could it be her?

If I could separate
         yolk
from white
        my decision
would be golden 
        but truth         is scrambled.

Two girls stand accused.

Perhaps... one
tells the truth.

But the other,
the other

is lying.