Scapegrace

______
Very old
______

He measured an IQ of a sailor with a brief case (in the same room as the captain)
“I was a colonel, with an adamant appeal,
Before the tyranny of the arrangement happened”
He mixed in the gray suits like an orange peal
He enclosed a bit of registration with every conversation
The trends went off giddy, making friends with their own self-pity
However, the proficiency of his adaptation proved superior
than the reptilian temperature
in every room bowl of survival punch, excuse me, sir
Excuse me, sir -have we met before, possibly at the corporate lunch?
He was in a well-lit circle of endowments and expensive ice
His eyebrows drew question marks and met for the regard
He inched through the pack of lions and stated “wouldn’t that have been nice.”
(Okay tiger that was not too hard)
He eluded each interrogative approach
He never spoke, just cleared his throat
At the end of each hour he removed his shoes and paced along the patio wrap
Lit up with the smokers, to get some fresh air,
He sat with the brokers, to hear the new scare
He returned, with the information he had learned, sitting on his lap.

By Kelly Bloom
October 18, 2000
First Draft