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Poetry: Thinking

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"Inside the Mailman's Mind"

An automatonic walk in the 'hood-

Lights are on, but there's nobody home

The odd side of Main, a right turn on High,

Onward I mindlessly roam

I peel off three letters for one-fifty-six;

There's a parcel for three-eighty-four

The Smith's German Shepherd is running the streets...

Believe me, I've seen it before

With auto pilot kicked in, I carry on,

My one thought is delivering mail

Stop me to talk, my rhythm is lost,

I'll start making mistakes, without fail

But everyday Clyde takes my mind for a ride,

And he tells me of sports and the weather

My systems are down, the fuses are blown,

And I hand him his dear neighbor's letter

"Hey, this isn't mine," he snaps from his porch,

"This is Joe's, down at two-twenty-five!"

The numbness is lost for another three blocks,

And for now, yes, I know I'm alive

Learn more about this author, T.C Leonard.
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