I Am The Salesman

another top of the head poem. sometimes i’ve no idea if there’s any hidden beauty in the rawness and lack of development of such poems (if they can be called poems). :S


i am the salesman

that visits you door to door

peddling peddling of silver and gold

lockets, trinkets, engravings anyone?

caress your curiosities and sweet

childish smiles. of pursed lips i do not know.

of bared wants and desire i

satisfy.

cavort with you.

but you do not see inordinate baggage left

in the stairwell with odd

ends of clothes and flowers

and teddy bear arms

waving from jammed shut edges

i’d say those whispering words

and perhaps a diamond you’d become.

for me. Pocket. Set i

don’t know. hurry, sweep, off we go.

prized catch. next sale. you.

Tags: Poems & Poetry