Issue
#9 

a poem by Nathan Graziano

A Smile Like a Used Car Salesman 

Slick like fish oil, the salesman was on us with a front wind of 
aftershave and a firm handshake. He said, big smile, he was 
dying to sell us a car, and while running our credit, he told us 
about how he couldn't work for a year (he hurt his back) and 
lost his house and all his savings. "Close to a quarter of a mil-
lion dollars," he said with a big smile. While waiting for the list 
of used cars in our price range to come up on the computer, 
he told us that he worked seventy-five hours a week and was 
exhausted, but he had a date with his girlfriend, who was mov- 
ing in with him. "After I sold her a car," he said, wink, wink, big 
smile. And while my wife was test-driving the car, he told her 
that he hadn't had sex with his girlfriend yet, but was hoping 
the move would do the trick. Big smile (little dick). 
 
We bought the car. 

© by Nathan Graziano

 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #9 ~ May 2010