Faust On A Cell Phone

The corporate BigBoy Bribed me with a Sport Utility Vehicle Sure, I can drive around on Sundays And impress the chicks At the Laundromat But for sixty, seventy hours a week I have no will of my own I'm just a spineless snake-oiled salesman With a vicious appetite for Dupes The kind of guy even I don't want to associate with. But if I quit There's alimony and child support and— Oh, hell Excuse me, but I've got to make some more cold calls. (Previously published in Main Street Rag Poetry Journal, Vol 5, No 1 Spring 2000)