poem of the day 03.10.10

saddy’s girl

saddy’s girl
is wrapping a box in tape
out of line in the post office
while saddy holds her place

it is saturday morning
and finally decent outside

yet we are all here
the line in the post office
is almost out the door
it is full of us fools
running errands on our only days off

people are yelling about their packages
about stamps and shipping rates
they are shouting
to apathetic postal clerks
waiting on their lunch break

saddy’s girl
is laughing as she wraps the box

she is sipping an iced coffee
and singing a pop song

she has a tan although it is march
she has perfectly white teeth
long, silky black hair
and a thin, athletic body

the post office is a joy for saddy’s girl

for her, this place is an amusement park

saddy, he just looks at his girl and smiles

he can’t believe his luck

he doesn’t mind suffering
the post office line for her

he has his iced coffee too
he pressed sports coat
his painted-on stubble and pointy dress shoes

i’ll bet twenty dollars that
saddy has a small dick
and that his girl fucks like a snail

finally the box is wrapped

saddy’s girl makes it to the line
just as their turn is being called

she’ll never understand the horror involved
in mail, i think.

i get called to the next teller
i go and send my poems
for the editors of the world to laugh at

i get an angry postal clerk
one who’s only minutes away from her break

saddy’s girl has their clerk in stitches

some people have that good american charm

i smile at my clerk
she’d kill me if she could

soon i am back outside
i think about getting a bagel and a large coffee
i am heading toward the bagel shop
when i hear saddy’s girl start to squeal

she is laughing and singing again

she and saddy are finishing their iced coffees
and talking

“i’m hungry,” saddy’s girl says.
“let’s go get a bagel and some more coffee.”

suddenly i’ve lost my appetite

fuck it, i think

i walk the fifteen blocks home
wondering how in the hell people live like that

when i get inside i open
a new jug of wine

it’s only ten-thirty in the morning, but i don’t care

i sit down and sip the wine

it tastes good

then i take it all down into the gut

i pour another
while i try not to think about anyone
or anything

i begin humming a tune

it’s a pop song

the one saddy’s girl was singing
while she wrapped that box in all of that
post office tape
as the rest of us stood there
dying a little bit on a saturday morning

i sit there humming, drinking the wine,
in silent torture
as the rest of the world wakes up
to do the chores that they have to do

saddy, you and your bitch

with your perfect world
full of post offices and pop songs

now i’m going to have this shit
in my head all day.