STAMPS
Not the rubber or red ink machine pressed type,
but the ones with the glue on their behind - the
ones licked or stuck onto an envelope. That kind.
Then they are on their way - to pay a bill, to say
a “Thank you” or a “Happy
Birthday” or “Get well.”
or “You’re invited to …. RSVP” or an “I’m sorry.”
Then the amusement park type ride on conveyer
belts and scanners - then the truck ride - bumps,
jostling, to an address - to a mail box or P.O. Box.
Finally comes the moment that the stamp is silently
getting paid to do: the arrival in someone’s mail
hand, then the rip, the slit, the opening of the mail.
Good News: “It’s a girl! 7 pounds, 3 ounces” - along
with a picture of the darling. Bad News: “Joe passed
away this past Wednesday, Keep us in your prayers.”
© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2015
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