The Postal Worker

The Postal Worker The lady behind the counter, she takes my packages, and gives me, "looks"... when I tell her I write books, and request to send my items media mail. It is much cheaper by far, to send my words to another place, printed between covers, I design. It is a way of sending tangible expressions to friends, family, and strangers... soon to be friends, and claimed family without going broke. No joke. I love to send just simple cards, things that I create. But sometimes it is my fate, to write more things down, like a clown... in a rodeo at a show, giving the cowboy time to get away... free and clear from harm, with charm. My hair grows red, as I am fed crackers, by the parrot that lives in the zoo with a few... wild peacocks that make stew for the rabbits to eat. You see how my feet wander? They go all over and back.