William Logan

Door to Door
November 11, 2012 Logan William

Door to Door


He tooled around Long Island

in a late-model Chevy, chivvying housewives—


never cold calls, having learned

how to sweet-talk even a dubious


prospect into giving up her best friends.

The neighborhood worked out by noon,


he’d knock off the rest of the day,

down a few sidecars, brag of being tossed out of Yale


for kicking the teeth out of a physics student.

He’d be eighty or ninety, staring out at the Sound,


last man alive in his nursing home.

Why recall that briefly known smoothie


with slicked-over bald spot and elbow leathers?

They do survive, the rascals, the louts for all seasons,


heroes of what we choose not to be.

Or what we want the courage to become.


What did we sell? Kitchen knives. Razor sharp.

WILLIAM LOGAN’s latest book of poetry, Rift of Light, was published in the fall of 2017.