by Rowan Luis
In the front garden; a man approached and stopped to talk. He tried to sell me an arial photo of my cottage. He started at £49.99.
I tell him convincingly that it’s a beautiful photo, (I’m in the mood to lie,) but that I can’t afford it. He drops the price to £39.99. I shake my head looking at it, pretending to marvel. I really don’t like it but I’m getting off on the fact that he believes I do.
He drops it to 25 quid. Again I say no, I have no money. He continues to haggle and eventually I gesture at my clothes and say “does it look like I can afford to buy an arial photo of my own house?”. He leaves, convinced.
Posted on 05/26/2011
Copyright © 2021 Rowan Luis
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Laura Doom on 10/11/11 at 04:32 PM|
Yeh, that guy's a dick -- I think mine had a frame fashioned from reconstituted pasta, and the picture was set in aftermath of rutting...