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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 |