Thurman P. Woodfork

SMOOTH TALKER

I listen as he chats with me, silken
Words flowing with practiced ease,
As soothing as a murmuring brook,
Insincere as a capricious breeze.

All the while he looks around;
Easy jocularity crinkling his jaws,
To see what bounty might be found
As effortless patter cloaks his claws.

It’s hard to resist the bonhomie
Behind the facile, bantering chatter
Or recognize the practiced charm
Reassuring me nothing is the matter.

As he talks he surveys the room,
And I realize with a relieved shock
He has suddenly changed his mind;
I’m no longer the intended mark.

With a friendly nod he moves off,
Closing smoothly in on richer prey;
I swear I see a fang briefly gleam
In that boyish smile as he glides away.