The knock at the door produced a mailman.
You owe a dollar-six, he said.
A large manila folder, delivered-insufficent postage.

It's contents included:

Five photographs, a couple intertwined
12 poems, handwritten on lined paper, folded then unfolded
("...I am a candle, burning at both ends..")

6 tangential letters, returned to torn open envelopes
(..and when you said you would stay, I ..)

3 or 4 fictional headlines, on wax paper, from the header maker at the newspaper-

Medical Breakthrough-man's heart stops-continues to live!

The whole pile on the floor in front of the couch looks like an emptied locker or a briefcase, dropped, but

It feels like a rejected organ donation.

As I carry it over to the trash can I notice the smudged circular stamps, front and back.


A smile to myself, now I know what that means:

cauterize on delivery.