I save nine seconds of light
bulb life leaving the work room
for the kitchen. That much dark
I can handle,
the doorway never moves.
It's a home office,
the dryer dings between cold calls,
work shirts drape the ironing board.
The value I bring, on days I don't
sell well, is this separating peppers from seeds
slicing avocados into smiles.
Thirty years I've nuanced accents over the phone.
Eight to five I remember father
was a salesman, but
it was mother taught me, before
paychecks mattered, 'Think
of eating, before you're hungry.'