Sammi’s Weekender #304 (mail)

Click graphic for Sammi’s blog where you may play along and/or read more prose or poems.

 


Mail men: leather bags, caps, big shoes;
they walked onto front porches,
with letters, bills, or draft notices—
seldom junk.

Now she rides fast. Much junk. No letters
or conscription notices.

Forever stamps may be exactly so.


Look both ways and pine for the past.
Amazon may own your soul or make your day.
Mind the gaps as you fondly recall the memory.

 

(The irony is that the USPS sends us an email each day alerting of the coming snail mail.)