11,496. WHEN THE POSTMAN BRINGS DIRT

WHEN THE POSTMAN 

BRINGS DIRT

I want to leave you for a dream,

vacate this world for the semblance

of a faraway, recalibrate my Fitbit for

another, different, stride. I'll take

any other option I can find : the 

trail through the Hallet Preserve

would do, but it's too small and

they often keep it locked.

-

There's no reflection from the sky

today and the mailman's running 

late. It always amazes me now, how

our mailman is lame. He's got a

twisted leg, short, or crooked, and

he has an awkward, hobbled gait

that's hard to watch. How he got

this route I'd never figure.

-

The roadway out of here, I guess

is a decent stretch. But it's often

crowded at the worst 0f times

  -  people pile on, cut lanes, start

screaming, and cutting the lights
for the turns they make. Small, 
loud cars, often blue, with 
Rahway drivers too. Just as 
lame, I guess, as Jake.