Broker

Mr. Conard, looking on
from death’s healthy distance,
waggled his grizzly head,
and harrumphed.

( though not too emphatically)

The point being that Charlie-boy,
his sometime protégé,
might just be headed into
unfriendly and undoubtedly
unctuous territory.

For there sat Charles,
amid the non-descript
office furnishings,
across a flimsy desk,
his brow all a-knit,
squirming mightily
in a seat too contrictive,
his head a-swim in
a numbing swarm of
legalese phraseology.

Out of his ken was he
seeking financial information
before a manically smiling,
over-cologned, salesman sort
in an questionable suit.

Charles,though plainly baffled,
still took time to note that
his thinnish lips seemed fixed,
unmoving around the terrible tooth-gleam
emmitted from his unprecedented dentistry.