Chris Banks
The Late-Great Encyclopedia Men
They stand at the entrance of a house
unable to lift a finger to ring the bell
knowing they have joined the late-
great ranks of salesmen who haunt
airport lounges and hotel bars
telling stories of how they too once
carved out a territory for themselves
like Romulus and Remus, an empire
of neon lights and red clay-dirt farms.
But had they lived in that other time
their lives would be worth the same,
no more than the scattered leaves
rattling under a car’s dusty wheels
as they go to and from destinations
they cannot even recall week to week
which is why they stand so motionless,
hesitating on someone’s front stoop,
not daring to disturb the neighborhood,
watching the faint shadows they cast
on the sidewalks in the early evenings.
How insubstantial they look walking
already forgotten in the coming dusk.
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