Posted by: John Looker | 26 November, 2013

The Breakfast Meeting Is Heartily Loathed


The Breakfast Meeting Is Heartily Loathed

The breakfast meeting, we know, is heartily loathed
except of course when it’s loved.
Having eaten already, and early, he comes to the table
focused and fresh and with radar scanning for trouble.

He ensures that the table’s well-covered, and slightly too small,
but “we don’t need our papers!” he tells his guests with a smile
“and since we are friends” – good friends, he likes to opine –
“let’s begin with a toast and a generous glass of champagne!”

This man could sell pants to a mermaid. But now he must face
(and he knows it) commensurate force:
before him is the CEO who has seen it all,
who comes with a smile …

… this is the Merchant from Samarkand
whose life is the market for silks – of every kind …
this is no youth fresh from his rites of passage but rather
the Tribal Chief whose very pulse is trade along the river …


© John Stevens 2013

This is the fourth of a sequence of poems called The Silk Road which began with the post “Frequent Flyers” at:

Further poems are to come (I’ve therefore turned off comments for the time being to save my customary friends and readers from feeling that they must say something).



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