Was this me?
by scott from jail

Today the mailman was not met or seen -
His little one-man caravan
Speeds in reverse while dodging error and other cars -
Even in the freshly fallen snow he rumbles, bumbles by,
Backwards pointing in some crazy opera to himself and time card -

But we were gone to Wal-Mat and the like,
The whole town seized with cheap Thanksgiving
To a humbled tune, mumbled making change
Happy! nevertheless, feeling the slippage
Of the international economy
In the price of frozen peas...

Now, more than ever, knowledge of his tracks
Laid in snow, a whisper's deep, comes tumbling, grumbling by
Suspected Pentagon infirmities, question marks the citizen
"Who is safe?" wondering
Where I'd been

So self-congratulated paranoia, all the rage, fumbling, stumbling past
Only seized the snow
Leaving the handle of the mailbox
All untouched, but asking -
Is this me? Mine?

Copyright © 2011 - scott from jail
Published: 5/19/11   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem