The evolution of poetry to advertising
"But this is just the floor sample?" the owner
eyes me with arched brow. i recycle my plea.
"I need it to sell the real stuff, its only a loaner.
You can take it to match with your furniture, see?
But i want it back." We both grasp each other's parapet.
i move my thumbs back an forth appraising
the texture of his resolve. Sale tactic: Tug o' carpet.
Wants to know how badly i want it. In releasing
i floor him. "Well the pattern is old skin for old wine
to my mind anyway." And now false hurt feelings
is his counter move. "I only deal in eternal designs
i'll have you know, sir." Though the blue with the two
climbing men (behind them a third) doesn't fool
me, i won't take him to the carpet for his remnant jewel.
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