the sales pitch.
Salt-speckled snowdrift colored hair w/ an Alley Oop
sorta lazy pompadour.
Thick strands hanging, like a dog’s tongue, over
a stunted forehead.
He was mid-60s, maybe, or just simply on a
meteorite collision w/ old age.
His ball cap had “Global Community”
in Times Roman font surrounding a picture
of the earth, his shirt pocket was tool chest full
w/ pencils, pens, tire gauges, & his glasses
were from junior high.
He talked at length about new planets,
their gravitational pulls, the lenses used in
giant telescopes & more, of course.
My store’s called “Spaceman Floyd’s Cosmic Toys”,
so I just figured he was an older nerd I netted—
a King Crab amongst brine shrimp.
He would eventually get to Lost In Space
or The Twilight Zone, then ask about a toy.
He suddenly halted his explanation of
Hubble’s sturdy construction & asked me what kind
of credit card machine I had.
His company, he explained, could give me
instantaneous money. No waits. The very next day.
Money, he said, in a cosmic flash.