Saturday, December 18, 2004

Selling coffeemakers

This is a poem I wrote when I was working for a construction company two summers ago, which is the same time I started this blog, and left it untouched till now. I'm scrapping everything else I wrote, but wanted to keep this. I like it.

An elderly man just came in.
His presence brought me to tears.
Not that it’s my business to decide that he needs tears
But his old frame
His stomach pooch
And thin comb-over
The fact that he was here to check and see if our coffee machine was working
An elderly salesman.
A job of frustration
Day after day, needing to make a sale to feed his family
Each day, desperation to sell.
Through the booming and the bust“please, sir, buy my coffeemaker, it’s top of the line”
I am labeling him with pity
But his eyes, his sad eyes
His posture speaks of these things


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