"Take a seat,"

he said as I entered,

"I'm sure you know why you're here."

not at all...

never did...

and a little voice said,

"Just nod your head;

pretend you're not dead."

So I did,

but I wasn't,

and I listened intently

with never a clue,

to the wisdom of ages,

delivered in stages,

slowly descending

as clouds of unknowing

rolled off the desk

and condensed on the floor.

The layers of sentiment

settled around me,

compressed and confounded

my fossil remains,

till scraped from my strata,

dislodged from the layers

and placed on display

in a chair by the door,

the flood of advice

reduced to a trickle

in the shimmering heat

and evaporated

around my sweaty feet

that bore my weight

as I stood to leave,

and though I can't say why,

I must be a better man.