GENTLE MAN, THE

The Chief

34 The Chief The chief hasn’t been laid In well over a year. He’d like to meet for a drink To discuss this important matter. He feels he can’t tell Another soul about his problem; After all, he is the chief And he doesn’t really think He ought to go around Pleading for a piece of tail. He stops short of claiming It should be his given right, But I know him quite well— And that’s exactly what he thinks. The chief wants me to assure him This won’t go any further Than the two of us. The poor guy’s desperate. Hell, he’s had hundreds of women— Sometimes, three in a single day; What’s happened to him now? he wonders. Have I noticed anything unusual About his demeanor or actions Which would deter the women From finding him attractive? He encourages me to smell his breath And I must admit it’s rather pleasant. 35 The chief eagerly asks If there are any available women I might set him up with For an evening this week. Somehow he thinks I have A pipeline to easy street. He appears crestfallen When I tell him I know No one who would be right For someone of his position. Then he lowers his head in shame And mutters he’d gladly Wear some type of disguise Or carry on this little tryst In another town far away, Where he’s a complete stranger. In the end, the chief departs— No better off for having met me. I agree to make various inquiries But he seems a beaten man, Ordering one too many gin and tonics, Stumbling out of the bar, Refusing help to reach home. And I feel like a failure, Unable to provide him The most basic of needs, So when I dream that night It’s the chief ’s face I see, Sadly staring down at me From some distant star. ...