Caress, Not Career Poem by John W. McEwers

She told me she'd get a job in advertising
I'd be good she'd say, I know how to sell people
things like puppies and kittens sell themselves
but when the responsibility comes no one wants
them anymore so they must be resold, right?
I can do that, she'd say, and she went and got that job
selling old puppies and broken cats to unfit homes
where children play with lighters and forks and
grandparents rock in rocking chairs hoping to one day
be finally rid of the stinking pets and she'd say
hey I sold another ratty little dog today, isn't that great?
and I told her shut up and hold me.