Poem: Consultants

Consultants with smooth, slow voices
Sit around the table with us,
The Clients,
All nodding.

It becomes stuffy, slow,
Obvious that
They have previously agreed
Not to divulge any information
Not to commit to anything
Not to reveal the easiest method
Of getting to the expected result.

They waste Time.
Time is their consort.
Lovingly pandered to, indulged.

Expensive she is, luxurious, pampered.
She winds around them,
Reminding them to give to her.
She drinks of our ignorance.

They have agreed to let only one speak
And he is an expert
At misleading,
Drawing out Time
Seducing her,
Encouraging her to lounge,
Sprawl,
Intoxicate herself, and
Pay no heed.

We are flummoxed, beguiled by his careless banter.
Soothed by vague assurances.
Confused by partial references.
Amused by useless details of
His wedding extravaganza.

Time lolls on the table between us,
Unable to focus, drugged,
Lulled by the consultants
Melodic, charming, hypnotic drone.

Money clicks loudly in his brain.
Keeps him on track.
Each moment registers
In digital, virtual brilliance
Behind his hooded eyes.

He continues his careful doling out of pittances.
Stingy with his information,
He purposely allows us
To wander down the wrong path
Get confused
Flounder
Be ever so graciously guided back -
All the while
The digit counters creep
And our pockets grow lighter.

Charleton.
You would administer noxious potions
Artful Dodger.
You pick my pocket
Mephistopheles.
You wait for the opportunity
To seize, to sign -
In blood.

I name you.

Beware.