Professor Poindexter

I stare as the weightless words

Steam gently from a man so

Freighted with self-importance

That I fear capture into orbit

Around his center of gravitas.

I see the reptilian glint in his

Antediluvian eye, yet still

Succumb to the sincerity of his

Delusion, strangely unwilling to

Shatter his Poindextrocentric world.

Instead, I stand mesmerized by the

Boundless python of persuasion

Slithering from his throat, allowing

It first to embrace me, then to coil

Slowly into a death-grip, each

Constriction taking me further from

The world I know. Protest, left

Too late, is lubricated with the

Snake oil of his sleight of mind,

Prolonging my suffocation in his

Ocean of self-service. Far off, a

Sullen voice that must be mine

Endorses today’s requisite untruth.

Ah, my dear boy, glad we agree!

He tugs contentedly at his wattle,

Flashes a victory smile that has

Never seen a toothbrush, and,

Receding like his colorless hair,

Graces me with his absence.