A rural mistake
Guarded by bats
At the raw oysters
Sitting on the table
One spoke a word
That called out in a jest:
“How dare you speak
Of trash in such a tone!”
So the mail was gathered
Street was paved
Lawn was mowed
And the car was deiven
Straight off the cliff.
My window looks out
Lost deep into thought.
Two strings I had to pull
Let go their fray
Unwind I went along the walk
River and then back
Which brought me to a stranger who
Said I had two letters of mail
Being symbolic of my thoughts,
Left me on the precipice
Until my coffee had arrived
And aroma filled the air.
Letter’s in the mail to a woman I’ve never met
Confessed it all in one fifteen letter script
Could this have just been a trick?
Sloppy like the moon on a dreary midnight
A newly appointed butler hanging upon my every word
Carried it too far for I’m an ant within the bathroom
Headphones on a slow bus lost in darkness
Two beats I keep tapping on the wooden sided seat
I’m still working on a better wrong
And tomorrow I’m going to have a word with the mailroom.
Papa could’ve been another type of man
Like a raindrop could be caught in a hand
Let another letter slip through the mail
Gone again gone again as heat prevails.
“A little gone,” says the better man
Couldn’t you have just set it right: a plan
I said goodbye into a dusty pan
Held it close as I looked inside.
When the needles dropped upon the forest floor
Little birds gathered all around
Snowdrops sprouted into the sky
And the trail twisted on.