Quarterly Reports

He’s the Agent of the Month in 10-point font,

the kind of success I’m supposed to want.

I remember him failing that algebra test,

now he’s selling split-levels better than the rest.

His teeth are too white for a human head,

bright as a hospital wing or a bed.

I drop the flyer in the bin for the scrap,

while his glossy face stares out from the trap.