Mad Mailman

The church bells tollled morning bright as the Devil released his bowels,

Piles of mail released in happiness dark and playful howls,

A man dismounted his carriage and pulled the satchel to his back,

While quivering eyes behind window shades watched his moves to track,

“He’s lazy! He’s crazy! He’s mad as hell!” they say after he’s gone,

But fear to say a word when he’s trampled on the lawn,

A brave one catches him at the door to say it’s not his mail,

But shrinks back as he sees his eyes as if a man from jail,

“It’s only three blocks over, I can take it there myself!”

The mad mailman responds not, walks away a twisted postal elf.

His day near through, a charming lass beckons to her door,

She might want her electric bill, or maybe something more,

His heart of rotting meat melts deep within his chest,

He stands up straight and flicks his hair to look his very best,

She gives him the once over, licks her lips to his surprise,

But then he sees around his waist, a firm parcel that she eyes.