Poem #5: The smells of the district

September 7, 2020

In the nicer part of the district, the houses don't smell like anything.
On the nicer part, the cheaper part, and news to nobody.

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My brother is a letter carrier for the United States Post Office. Every day, he walks around and puts mail into slots on people's houses. He also writes poetry.

Post Office Poems is a series of short meditations on existing in your body in the real world, the joys and tragedies of bureaucracy, and The Mail.

Take a moment with us to consider the glue that holds our mutual lives together: the discount glue, that is only sort of sticky, that you can't get off your shirt.

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