THE UNFORGIVEN POSTMAN

Trudging my route I often growl,
When I think no one's looking.
I thunder, "NO! Our love cannot resume.
"Friendship's . . . impossible! Goodbye, you bitch!"

And then in fantasy I turn my back.

I rewrite history. She left me years ago.

Yet often -- often -- I wish that I could turn,
and see my loved one there,
and run to scoop her up,
forgive and be forgiven as in a movie.

But the rain is on the street.
The bundles of letters are soaking in my bag.
The streets so long and slippery.
Long rows of houses want their mail,

And she will not call anyway, with honey in her heart:
I will never forgive or be forgiven.

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Copyright 1997.

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Last modified: 7:32 PM EDT 4/29/2001