by Matt Dennison

I am often late with my payment,
mail a crumpled bill now and then
in the envelope I tend to discover
somewhere on the floor. Forget
to write my address. Confusion results.
Months go by. Papers fail to appear.
Papers suddenly pile up outside my door.
I scramble to gather the scrolls, bowing
and waving to the paper-slinging mother
as she slams past in her small car. After
the last paper drought the daughter finally
crawls out the car window to knock on
my door. Don’t you want the news!
she cries, righteous indignation steaming
from her hot-nickle’d hands as I stand,
the eternal bewilderment of man.

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