2022-06-03T11:05:52-07:00April 28th, 2012|Musings on life|

The curious appeal of futile anticipation

I don’t know when I will stop
expecting a letter
instead of all these bills
and flyers for pizza and men
who wash windows in kilts.

There is no one in particular
I think might be writing me

but I cannot help
the hopefulness

the unreasonable optimism
that the clang of the mailbox
means somebody held me in the nest
of their thoughts.

So old-fashioned
like milk in glass bottles,
like handkerchiefs.

One day I will try to explain to my son
the appeal of anticipation
in an instant world

that there is sweetness
in the wait.

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