II: Now Serving #21

He stands there pretending to be busy at times
waiting for you to waver untidied piles of cash
he sifts through like monopoly and free pass
forgetting it's his duty to serve you, number 21.

Black pants collide with his navy-jacket gold
buttons like some debonair country-club cub
adorned with swag such as his adjacent gold
lamay pocket-watch only Austin Powers plays.

It's the tiny details he notices such as gestures
back-and-forth teetering on penumbrant ships
as oceans vacillate between should and should
not, this way we go forewarned, he waits.

Sitting like some cross-legged banker sign-here
X marks the spot his Mont Blanc gives him the
Carte Blanche he desires with your freedom
It's his sinister smirk that tells your demise.


III: 5 O'Clock

All he really wants is to go home but the hand
awaits his 5 o'clock whistle, when he runs free
momentarily dreamed of sipping martinis like
Bond in bars with valet parking, red stanchions.

The buzz shakes him back to you he waits, this
pedaling of product new China merchandise
imported for to keep economies strong shares
dollars with signs of eyes-so-wide they glimmer

In the shadow his shave moving to full eclipse
His shirt wafting the cheap cologne the fragrance-
and-cosmetic-girl con-ed him into using rouge
as rouse with lips perched at pink cheeks of his

Now who's the big-top sales-man mister Charly
Brown. It's a miracle the shine of his shoe doesn't
reflect the ooze of junk he spews just to make it
After-all this is the rat race and he just made it.


IV: Play Things

Commissions huge to buy that Lambo he always
dreamed of having, it's a new toy meets exuberance
showy but all the girls like it, heads turn, spin-style
turns-out heavy under facades of zoom-zoom.

It's the cycle he watches, seeing if you will make
your move on the capital stake, it's only hair gel
it's the cold seeping sculpting of his jet-black hair
that spells s-wave like some slithering snake escaping

Crescent innuendo exudes oozes sex like slime
dripping-off sleazy watches Rolex branded stamped
like cattle herded to graze as sheep would follow
some great-man with staff for a weapon parting

Off to cause trouble in the under-world this sales-
man kind represents futility in survival as Darwin
himself laughs from beyond fallen earth. Watching,
from hotel windows as he seduces naïve fantasy


V: Jet Set

Sometimes he jets over to NY just to meet with old
mistresses he use to sleep with, just over Christmas
or Thanksgiving instead of visiting his small child
new and without proper parental guidance

For a sales-man he doesn't have much in the mind
of his own dream, he works in tandem with magazines
occupying his space like some paid-for-billboard
a two-bit store who eats smores over fire roasted

Chafing wick flames slow-roasting his morals
down-to-the-marrow corroding from the outside-in
His escapades costly like Vegas days, but no object
for his world revolves around the metronome

Of your need, coveting plastic bartered for status
he waits, kneeling down blessing himself with truth
Holy-waters rain down from magma falls as spit
While he remembers when he was only 5 and wanted


VI: Reminisced

No more than that bright red-tricycle for his birthday
but got a cake and a green machine, which is cooler
by the way, oh, was that a question, to him it was?
he loathed his brother, who got everything he wanted.

Wondering why brought him to his slightly obsessive
nature within almost psychiatric suicides, mentally
blocked but barely breathing survived after long-comas
subsided in his eternal damnation, yet, he waits.

Sitting in his room, staring at the lite-brite, with bulbs
missing like tinker-toys or legos with no architect
he imagines rainbow bright while pretending it's done
noon-time falls to lunches with mother, over tea

Crumpets and a biscuit at 4 with the old nanny
marvelous spread of marmalade made a man out of him
while pigeons pray over his balcony making, you guessed
and crumbs gathered over sand as indistinguishable


VII: Regressed

It's simple recollections of Picasso, Bugs Bunny, Wil-E
that ruminate in his roadrunner attention span
bugs often taught him how to take on bulls and make it
while Uncle Sam shouted tarnation mother calmly stated

Turn down that TV I'm sleeping, but that's what he did
Slept through learning times in kinder-care till rabbits
yes they did, rabbits talked to him on acid trips in Rome
while passed for sweating after-school basketball games

None-the-less, eventually he paid no attention to teachers
but made up his own mind, entered playing with fire
academy for the enriched with delusional parentals
and dysfunctional genes brought Darwin back alive

Tested all the theories, this Einstein would have been
proud to witness the birth of super-casa-nova studded
jeans and egos to match, even Dolly laughs at his
rhinestone blue billie-jean jacket turned sport-coat


VIII: Smoke and Mirrors

Turned around spirits free he wonders, are these
damn people ever going to decide if they want it
or are they just going to meander to-and-fro like
passing clouds listening for thunder and lightning

He can't wait for the moment these neolithic creatures
move from antiquated to the common-era musings
wanting them to cave he presses point sharp into
their fear but gives them opportunity and inclination

To pass-over this deal like a whammy, urging
he wants to bleed them dry with his stealth patience
poker takes on new meaning according to his Rolex
brushing the lint-off his smooth silk, worsted wool

Suit he full display they buy it, damn he's good with
sharks and tables of mercenary dealers, cigar smoke
billowing choking with pungent aromas of odor
he finally made the sale; it's the century to claim!


IX: Closed the Deal – Moves On

Often unrecollected his remarks reminiscent upon
taking the house for a ride while suggesting that
he outta look around while they decide none-the-
less romantically fantasizes about his bulging win

Ego strokes attend far less struggle in the wind
waving as he calmly strokes his grease laden
grooves the way a smoker gravitates to pinkies
arriving in style across vapid depths of Vaseline

Growing in status like the domino fats checker check
Facts the stratus imbues the rest of its cumulating
attestation of cumulus cumulous projecting relics
the tasty treat of wine and dine arises his next trophy

Set atop the ridges in his smirky cheeky dimple as
the temptation mounts his random 5 o’clock shadow
draws dawn near his offense as he jerkily caresses the
next passer bys, and collides to collect on the next.


X: Moral of This Story

It’s not that time attests to grace the permanence in
Someone’s face the place you put yourself in is the
Roman Coliseum saving face gladiators battle out
You were in this place collecting peruse shame on

You willingly leading the need for sumptuous devices
material in nature imaginative in the divine mind for
knowing better the places stepped into and watched
from above would lead you to believe that you are kind

Ly wanted and accepted deviants of persuasion and trick
sters of illusion making dynamic displays of sinister deduction
seducing the slithering scathing beast of sales champs
deducting time from paid for delusions of entertainment

Silly bribes buying tastes of instant gratification delayed by
anticipation and pleasure of knowing your prey is captured
bait while the sand erodes your plastic fate electronic taste
grows fine with wait and you end up with junk you hate.

02/14/2010

Posted on 02/15/2010
Copyright © 2024 Michael Defries