The Salesman

The Salesman

The man strolled from shop to shop with one wish. A wish to please through the sell, to fulfill through himself, a tool for the shop keeps and a fool for their families that they lay to rest in beds made of gold that they spun from the straw that the man sold in bulk, wholesale, marked off, door to door and night by night he gained their trust, he gained their esteem, the virtues of the man, the straw speaks platitudes as soothing as the aforementioned beds that the shop keeps and the shop keeps’ wives were spread on, like old mayonnaise out in the sun on stale bread with apples’ worms peaking their heads from decaying cores as the world spun and man walked on, and man walked on, until the worms were as dried as the apples and the world spun and man walked on, and man walked on, door to door, night by night…