My new boss: Are you into poetry at all?

Me: Perhaps I read a few poems here and there, when I can!

Him: You mind reading something I recently wrote?

Me: Sure, couldn’t hurt; I might enjoy it!

Him: I hope it isn’t too weird, I had a few people say it was ok; a few others said it wasn’t finished…

Me: Perhaps, the poem isn’t finished with them; poems do that to me sometimes, expose themselves to me without finalizing moment…sort of like an open ended film or story…if that makes sense at all.

Him: Maybe, you’re right!

Me: Hmph, this is a good write here; it sort of reminds me of a poem written by Robert Frost and a cross of Krishnamurti philosophy (it was a profound poem on love that he thinks I wasn’t going to catch)

Him: If you like that, I have a few more if you’re interested in poetry at all…

Me: that would be cool, perhaps you can teach me a thing or two through your work

Him: that’s cool you’re open to this…

Me thinking…he has no idea, should I tell him or just keep the mystery…