segunda-feira, 8 de setembro de 2025

The car won't drive itself

 The man put on his sales face 
Using smiles and encouraging "woah's"
Gestures that would draw you in
Then make you focus to see if there was magic

The arm came lightly at first
Then spread over my shoulder like a semi hug
The "I used to be like you" speech creaked out
Then chogged away like a locomotive

Overly confident cologne 
To match that pompous baritone
a selling voice that would seduce a rabid dog
Practiced for years infront of the mirror




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