Today it came
freshly postmarked
and comically late:
The first card received
at my new apartment.
Thanksgiving may have strafed
on by like a Corsair, but my friendly
State Farm insurance agent
wanted to wish me a happy one
regardless, his laser-etched
John Hancock making it
all-the-more personal.
I guess I'll magnet it
to the fridge with that
political calendar I got
in the mail. It's good to
have friends in high places.
It's good to have friends
where you can keep an eye
on them, like across the room
on the Maytag door.
Speaking of doors
any knock on mine is usually
unexpected. I slide to the peephole
since creeping makes the boards creek.
Last week it happened
at my most paranoid moment
right after drowning my angels
in sleep. Who knew that the FedEx guy
banged with such authority? I thought
it was the end. I answered accordingly
aside from only donning shorts.
Luckily he didn't scope the hardware
behind the door. "Sorry it took awhile,"
I lied with a forced cough for effect
as I scribbled a fake signature
with my unoccupied left hand.
"I've been a bit sick lately,"
though maybe that wasn't fictitious.
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