I planned to blog about the post office today because I love it so much. Really, I visit at least once every day but twice on most days.
Anyways, so I was going to blog about said love of the post office. But then a professor was talking about poetry, and I decided to write a poem about it.
Then I locked my keys inside my dorm room and had to sit outside, waiting for my roommate to come assist me. So I began the poem that you’ll read in a minute while sitting outside my door like a bum. It’s not perfect by any means, and it doesn’t fully express how I feel about this place. I think if I did fully express it though, you might never come back here again. And I want you to be a regular visitor. So I’ll tone it down so that you won’t think I’m too strange.
But I do really love the post office. for real.
Not much glamour in a room
Built around cardboard, paper, and packaging tape.
Spend pocket change to dispatch your love.
Lick it. Stick it. Send it. Receive it.
Turn the dial, left-right-left-right.
Let the bubble of hope rise up.
Past zero, back again.
Just an envelope, a note,
Paper signs of affection.
Not much glamour in a box
Made of metal, filled with papers.
You’ve got mail today,
or hope built up for some tomorrow.