I wonder if the postman knows
everybody’s birthdays on the block –
whether their grandparents are still alive
by the number of illegible envelopes that arrive
on a particular Tuesday.
I wonder how many dogs bark
at his footfall six days a week –
whether he counts –
and what that does for
his self-esteem.
I wonder if he spends his Sundays
thinking of the lovebirds
whose heart-encrusted notecards
he delivered on Saturday;
wondering if Mr. Mays will
pay his electricity bill
on time this month
and avoid another yellow envelope;
or wishing he could visit
one of the exotic-looking islands
he delivered to my mailbox
the day before.
No comments:
Post a Comment