The Mirror Salesman

The Mirror Salesman works in a new suit each day,
a uniform policy in his company.

“Do you watch that program?  Ha, me too!”
“And wouldn’t you know, we wear the same shoe!”

The trick is in knowing which mirror to bring.

Some want ’em dusty.
“Heck, who likes to clean?”
Others, real rusty.
“A throwback look, I know what you mean.”

Some want cutting edge in technology.
“The polish from Kansas, the glass, Tennessee.”

Choosing what to reflect is always the thing.
“The new barcalounger,
the deluxe china hutch?”

His answers are smooth, he doesn’t say much.
“It seems happy right here,”
he says of the mirror, his voice with a ring.

“Why look at it shine, I’d wish it were mine,
it sure makes  the room,  it couldn’t be clearer.”

And when you’re not looking, he’ll quickly glance down.
“Well look at my lace, it’s time to replace!”

And wouldn’t you know,
that salesman of mirrors,
he also sells string.

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