For whatever reason,
some mangled and mismanaged chemicals, no doubt,
I’m afraid of the mailman.
I’m pretty sure he’s seen me in my most vulenrable state,
and I know he’s heard me napping
through the open window.
He’s easily the kindest mailman
I’ve ever had,
and that’s precisely what makes all this
He even stopped to help
clear a downed tree
from the storm.
I wish I could tell him:
“It’s not you, It’s me…
It’s not you, mailman,
lugger of letters,
passer-out of packages,
I’m a deeply flawed human being.”