Saturday, December 25, 2010
The Postal Parade
It is Christmas morning, and postal carriers pour out of the doors of the main post office
Like pellets from a torn bean bag.
Some weep without shame.
Some slap their knee with one hand and wipe their eyes with the other.
Christmas delivery season is over.
One carrier turns slowly in a circle, arms outstretched,
Grinning as if all the world had suddenly become chocolate-frosted.
Two mail ladies dance together on the sidewalk, to wonderful unheard music.
A carrier named Gary strips off his blue jacket and flings it away;
Soon his tie joins it, discarded on the snow-dusted ground.
Another places his mail bag upside-down over his head like a drunkard,
And pantomimes blindness as his friends hoot good-naturedly.
A civilian in a black overcoat approaches the group, holding out a letter.
This sends the entire blue bunch into hysterics.
One mocks, "Cad I bail a ledder?", and they all fall over, howling with glee.
A window opens on the second floor of the post office,
And several empty trays and buckets are flung out;
Then a rather shapely ass appears in the window and waggles.
On each side, in red lipstick, is written
Cheering and wolf whistles fill the chilly air.
A group of strong young carriers push a mail truck onto the lawn,
Knocking over an idealized stand-up of some soulless company shill hawking products.
When the truck stops rolling, one of them opens the back gate and pulls out an old forgotten Redbook magazine.
He rolls it up and peers through it like a pirate through a spy glass,
Until a little blonde co-worker takes it and uses it like a majorette's baton,
And they all parade away down the avenue.
It is the Christmas postal parade.
They will go home and reintroduce themselves to their husbands and wives;
They will hoist up their children in their arms,
Ruffle their hair,
And spout love words you can see in the winter air.
Behold the Christmas miracle!
Ease and happiness--
Gifts falling into their lives like letters from the angels into a collection box.