Waiting for a parcel
Curtails my social life
My spiritual life
Until the postman calls
And then abruptly leaves.
I cannot leave my home
Until the postman calls
To drop a cardboard box
At my unshod feet
Before abruptly turning.
I cannot leave my home
Until he softly knocks.
Waiting for a parcel
I cannot visit friends
Fill my shopping bag
Stroll in the back garden
Go to church.
I must stay in one space
The radio softly playing.
But when the parcel comes
I shall have ten new light bulbs
So I can stay up late
So I can write my cheques
So I can read my books.
Waiting for the postman
Now keeps my life on hold.
Denouement.
Waiting on the fifth day
A sharp thud on the front door
Shakes me from the numbness
Glueing up my brain.
The postman smiles at me
Like the Hangman at a wedding
As he hands the parcel over.
"Have a nice day" he simpers
Before retreating down the pathway
Like a cat evading guilt.
I gingerly break the seal -
Four lightbulbs in pieces - six intact -
A cheap comment on my life story? - Perhaps.
I cannot recall a day when something was not trashed.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
2nd. - 6th. - 7th. February 2022.
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