Art Gephyr

Business lunch

Towering over the maitre d'
he boasted that aromas
of human behavior
revealed themselves
with just one sniff.
Eyes skimming
up and down,
he decided he knew
the depth of me.

A pound of bloody veal,
he chomped
on the conversation,
wiping my thoughts
with a napkin
before slicing the topic
with a clever joke.

A fist-grip
upon the wallet,
valuables locked
behind the closed door
of opportunity,
he left me at the table
with the aftertaste
of soggy a salad,
a watered down Bourbon,
and a staggering bill.