deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Salesman

she is bored, even more
since the kids have grown
and I no longer rush home
for meals served warm

when the neighbor comes over
she finger-combs her curls
and stains her lips- in ‘berry-kiss’-
bent into a simper

is when I remember

I, too,
once knocked on her door.
Written by ursa
Published
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