Closure

It’s a sneaky, snaky, unrelenting, son-of-a-bitch
door-to-door Bible salesman
who goes down the block,
down the street,
into another town, possibly another state,

takes a little time off to pray,
maybe goes to some ungodly Jesus sales seminars,
brushes up on his disarming technique,
learns to better disguise the pitch in his pitch.
puts back on his walking shoes
and returns.

You are in the kitchen deciding whether to roast the pine nuts
when there’s a knock at the door. You get excited.
Maybe it’s the Fedex guy with the new running shoes you ordered.
Or the gutter guy, a day early to clean out the dead leaves.
You walk to the front door, wonder whether in fact almonds would be better than
pine nuts.