Against The Backdrop of Distant Sirens

A shuffling and bouncing
And slightly damp
Deluge of envelopes
Cascades down the dirty
Staircase from the mouth of
A bag held by a man
With thick glasses and a
Cigarette tucked behind his ear.

He scans the stationary river
For something other than coupons or
Bills or magazines or
Official-looking confetti
From the top of the steps leading to
The second floor of his
Damp-looking house behind a
Mail truck with screwdriver in the ignition.

He finds a handful of what promises to be
Love letters
And, gingerly stacking them before him
Sits amongst the paper
To read.