the post office was empty
as i trundled my armful of
yellow mailers filled
with books
the lady at the counter
smiled
announced to her co-workers
that this the poet
she was talking about
i felt my face
burning
above my mask
near enough to steam
the condensation
in my mustache

i had been in
the previous week
to send out
my missives of lost loves
and depressive tales
across the country
we had sparked a talk
about the myth of
fame and fortune
as a peddler of
emotional static bursts

then she did
the last thing
i ever would have
expected
pulled out a copy
of my first collection of tales
from under the counter
the blush turned
near nuclear
as she asked me
to sign it

i asked what she thought

she smiled
mentioned persephone
noises
and t-rex and baby doll
three of my favorites
i replied
then the guy next to her
asked me
what kind of research
was necessary
for the two about sex toys
tucked away
at the end

it was an honor
that she took the effort
to check out the book
but i thinj
i may use
a different post office
in the future