DEATH OF A SALESMAN
They found him sitting before the TV
Stone cold, two days after he didnít
show up for work. In his hand
the remote control and not the phone
which was right there on the table
within reach. He was forty five,
you whisper, divorced, one of
your best men, lived alone. So
you need a new salesman, I say,
totally ignoring the man and
the conversation we just finished
about maybe leaving your wife
and starting a new kind of existence.
And you say, yes, Iím a bit
at loose ends.