Goode Guy Poet Narrative

Dead Letter Mail

the evening was a beautiful blue
when i got home from my workday

i went to the mailbox, retrieved a pile
and quickly perused the stack

i saw it quickly and was surprised,
my brother got a "handwritten note"

no return address, i noted,
yet it all returned, flooding back to me, 
the pain, the grief, the gladness,
all the stages of grief and life.

i held it up to the light, to candle it,
like a fresh egg from an older time

it was, as i suspected, a sales promo,
for foundation repair or perhaps 
for whole life insurance, or some
equally ironic useless instrument as,
my brother has been dead for many years.

i smiled, after the startle had subsided,
knowing, remembering, how my brother 
would have reacted, with a wry comment,
and perhaps a joke about always hoping 
he'd leave a forwarding address.

i got to thinking...do the dead, 
just like us, long for a note, a letter, 
some quickly dashed off postcard? 
"Having a time of it here, wish we could talk.".

perhaps, a little something 
with cologne-sprayed paper, 
or a glittered envelope,
or more my siblings style, with
some hot habanero, or heritage 
cantaloupe seeds inside. - 
just a quick note that says 
"You are remembered, and missed".

{looking up}
"i'd like a fifty-cent postcard, 
and a book of forever stamps please."

© Goode Guy 2013-05-13

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