They talk,

Hot air, minimum grace,

Explaining,

Chameleons playing charades,

Expert wool-pullers

Laden with artfully repurposed baggage.

They charm,

Shape-shifting,

Slithering through opportunities

Gamblers goading fate,

Thigh-deep in bullshit,

Eloquent in obscure forked tongues.

They spin doctorates,

Shaking off the chips so they may fall

Elsewhere,

On those with wider shoulders,

On the good-natured toiling trudgers

Who do the heavy lifting.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Esmeralda is watching them…