Crazy Girl Brings The Rural Carrier A Dime

Every day she meets me at the mailbox, holding

Her hand out. It's not the mail she wants.

I've tried to give it to her, but she won't

Take it—just stretches her arm toward me, unfolding

Her fingers from the palm. And there's the dime.

She wants me to have it. I ask her What do you need?

She won't answer. She reaches toward me, shaking her head

Like there's something we both know. Time after time

I ve shrugged my shoulders at her and driven on.

A ten-cent stamp, a cigarette — nothing satisfies her.

Every day, no matter what, she's there.

God, the way she looks, waiting for me in the rain!

Once I thought she followed me home. I started

To take her in my arms, hold her: Is this what you wanted?

0 0

Post a comment