Change Of Heart Poem by Jon Edward Walker

The head chef
who last week told me he knew where to
get anything
now leers at me and
talks in brief
code.
he gets off
angrily
drinks his free beer down quick
and leaves,
letting his long hair follow him
last weekend he hauled me down
into his basement room and showed
me picture’s of his traveling
and his poetry
both were unimpressively
hidden in his
8x8
room
without windows
his bed looked comfy though,
expensive
like the coke he was
no longer going to sell me