salesmen
We travelled together too often, wifeless and hungry in hellish towns – peering down the shadow stained hallways of motels at the straight backs of departing chambermaids. Endless company. Drinking as though the liquor must be punished, spinning on bar stool axis through dimly lit nights and rising at the post-noon exhale. People can say what they want but we made money on those afternoons - we did our goddamned job. We no longer speak but I think about you sometimes, usually in the afternoons when I’m looking out on my lawn and my wife is in the other room, laughing on the phone.
