Step into the world of the spy and witness the effect they have upon the people they meet - until one day they meet someone who poignantly affects them. A true story from my travels - and childhood.
The International Spy
A strange man sat down to talk
Acting like a best friend
His way was too familiar
He stirred a distant memory
Words he spoke stepped careful
Thoughts he said trotted calculated
Attitude sailed smooth, controlling
Clutching analytical mental paper
He placed me under his microscope
Probing for easy weaknesses
Character flaws to his advantage
Confident I had no strengths, too sure
The top dress of a spy is arrogance
Flattery he carried in his pocket
Revealing more about him than me
An aging man, shadow of a vibrant self
He talked on oblivious to my notice
Curious about my hotel choice in Europe
He inquired as to my reasoning for it
The days of the microscopic life flew
Back into my mind from childhood
Where I had grow up in this ugly world
Of the intelligence community gone bad
Cruel insensitive people studied children
And wives like we were things not people
Most cared not about us, a few felt pangs
Of terrible guilt for their meanest wrongs
I knew exactly what I had in front of me
As I vacationed in Europe for culture
When I was studied as a child I studied them
People are as interesting as they can be cruel
I considered what to say and measured my words
Knowing all would be recorded as infinite detail
This man was not here for what he presumed
Following up on a CIA child to recruit and destroy
What he never calculated was decades had passed
Training in all manners of wisdom was mine
So I let him engage to watch it all unfold and
He drank 8 shots of whiskey a glass as show
He drank all night, the bar owner glanced at me
I motioned to pour on and the old man drank
Like a lot of spies he learned how to drink
And sober up no matter how much he drank
Observe a sleepiness and then a head jerk
His eyes and speech would clear and sober again
He had mastered his body’s reaction
But still his emotional heart was raw
He was angry I would not match his drinks
Angry he could not intimidate nor bully
I spent the night repeating “No, thanks”
A woman waiting patiently for his real story
The questions he asked gave me information
I returned his questions with questions
Answering his while I led through the labyrinth
He had methodically constructed to trap me
He talked for hours long into the night
He worked hard to unbalance me
So I let him see my anger at his kind
I let him know the damage he had done
I unloaded condemnation and judgment
And the fury in his eyes threw daggers
As he watched his speech, I stood firm
Hurling words to pierce his hard heart
He had stepped into a hornet’s nest
And tried to calm and redirect but there
Was no going back, his words stumbled
As he tried to regain control never owned
I left him to ponder his inner fool that night
He showed up early the next morning
Humbler, still tenacious to fulfill his mission
Intervening, the awareness finally jumped him
It was never about me that night
He met himself reflected in my eyes
He was at the end of his long life
And now he realized why it had always
Felt
Wrong
Denny Lyon
Copyright 4 Dec 2010
All Rights Reserved
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Photo Credits
Man's face in shadow photo by Derrick T @ flickr
Walking on a cobblestone street photo by loop_oh @ flickr
Woman's face in shadow photo by shazwan @ flickr
Bar photo by beerbybart @ flickr
Sad heart photo by Dedorru @ flickr (commemorating 21st anniversary of the Montreal Massacre.)
Clock photo by ~Duncan~ @ flickr
Fork in shadow photo by (matt) @ flickr
Tree in shadow photo by hapal @ flickr
+at+flickr.jpg)
