Postman (a poem)

postieI sit and wait for you to come
To the door
I sit and wait for letters to drop
Onto the floor

Some times you’re early
But you’re never late
I suspect you’re quite burly
By how you shove the gate

Giros, postcards
And bills
Letters, death threats
and thrills

Parcels,
Junkmail
Fingers
Squashed snails

Greetings
Cheques
Bleatings
Mail order keks1

None of it
For me.
Because this is not my house
You see
For I am the burglar


1 Keks = trousers

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