the travelling salesman is quietly crushed
beneath the oversize suit and weight of expectancy
by the waiting for the day when his life will change
when he can leave this weather making his armpits sweat.
the travelling salesman sits in his car
with broken air and burning wheel
wrappers and clothes and papers and smells
not meant to co-exist in such a small shell.
the travelling salesman receives a look of contempt
from the house wives and husbands behind the doors he visits
careening children interrupt his speeches
as he mops his brow with a folded handkerchief.
the travelling salesman never thought of this
when his dads friends asked what he would do
he smiles to himself as the thought occurs
as a fireman he would have sweated just as much.
the travelling salesman tells no lies
he recites from the book they gave him
and their will be done though he has none
since one summer a long time ago.