This older woman
who never seems to be quite dressed
or have any clothes to match
or seems awake
in a regularly
disheveled way…
lives across the highway
from the matchbox size Post Office in Kansasville, Wisconsin
population 235
she walks in everyday at 7: 05 am
to check her mailbox
which is always empty
because her husband
who is either a early rising farmer
or an up all night alcoholic
always picks up the mail
before she arrives
everytime I see her
she always asks me
“How is the car running? ’
“Is your wife doing fine? ”
“Do you still have a job”
“How is your son doing? ? ?
“He is so cute…”
acting as if our lives
were advertised in the local newspaper
I do not know her name
I have yet to see anyone else
besides me,
talk to her
and the most that you can get
out of me that early in the morning
is “that’s right”
and why I say that
I haven’t figured that out yet….
maybe it is because
she is so lonely
she could never have imagined
someone would
think enough about her life
to write a poem
about her
Oscar Mireles
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-is-a-poem-disguised-as-a-letter-in-the-dead/
