I ponder a new car,
but I hate car salesmen.
I don't need one, but i'm a moth
attracted to the flame,
see the last
nine hundred poems if you
doubt me.
but I fancy a new set of wheels.
I desire the smell
of freshly minted factory
plastic and vinyl.
those new tires, not a crumb
on the floor or seats
to be found.
not a single drip of coffee
on the dashboard.
oh, if not for those salesmen.
how they pester me with emails
and texts.
phone calls. they have me in
their cross hairs with the slightest
bit of interest.
one simple question leads
to a firestorm of
when can you come in to test
drive. can you make a deal
today? we want your business.
we have balloons and coffee
to help your stay.
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