A post, the post and what have they to do with metaphysics?

The P.C.'s booted up
and I am settled back, when:
Are you very busy? Wife
from the next room.
Not terribly,  I lie.
Look out the window then!
I do. My, my!
Great Jeosophat! I cry -
or something, not a bit like that.

Nailed to the front gate post
another, thinner, ten feet tall
atop of which, a shining board
that reads FOR SALE - a bigger lie
by far, than any I have told.
My wife is on the 'phone, and I
am on my way with tools enough
to do the job - the crow bar, though
has taken off, 
gone A.W.O.L. on its own.

Insert the battered chisel. Prise.
Lever. Swear. No go. A few 
sledge hammer blows
should do
the job.
One.
Two...
Surprising me, the post and board
spin through the air
and come to ground
just where I stand.

Next thing: the postie calls
with packages to sign.
Did I just see... he asks,
your house for sale?

You did. It's not!

I see...

You don't! 

I've recently
debated with him 
about a football referee:
how one might come to "see"
a thing that didn't happen.
I take him back
to our discussion,
point out the similarity.
The metaphysics slows him down.
The round will take an extra hour.