The Last Sales Call
Noel Laflin
Sometime in Mid-August, 2014
In an office strewn with issues out of date,
He took a chair, grabbed a rag, sat the wait.
People, Time, Forbes, or Us,
It always was the same old fuss,
About tawdry stars who’d seen younger days,
Like the rep in the chair with the distant gaze.
He took a glance at his shoes,
Before being greeted with the news,
‘The doctor will see you now, good sir,
He’ll give you a minute, as it were.
I’d make it quick if I were you,
Doc’s way behind, and it’s nearly two.’
So off he strode - humming a tune,
Retirement loomed – not a moment too soon.
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