i wait for
the real estate agent to show up.
i see an old
woman
getting out of a car,
carrying a bag of brochures
and a metal sign.
she limps over and says my name.
who are you i say,
staring at the card
with her picture on it.
the picture that makes her look
like a glamorous model
about to walk down
the red carpet at the oscars.
i'm her.
she says, well sort of,
her brow sweating.
her eyes dark and bagged
with fatigue. oh.
it doesn't look like you.
she shrugs.
yeah, i know, took nine
hours of make up and air
brushing. they put veneer
on my teeth and
did my hair.
they photo shopped it for a few
days.
i knocked twenty years off
of me with that
picture. but hey, it reels them in.
i had five rentals
last month because of that picture.
where do you want the sign,
bub?
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