ODE TO MAILMAN EUGENE

 Just wrote this poem now, and ran down the street to hand it to.....

MAILMAN EUGENE

So many mailmen and mailwomen.

They try their best but none can compare

With my Mailman Eugene.

Kindness is his middle name.

Integrity his last.

It’s the little things he does

Like dig the mail from the 204 Cowbell Road

Mailbox, clinging like Sidney Poitier to the

Train on THE DEFIANT ONES.

These real men have big leg muscles

Like Dad’s used to be before he expired

From smoking too many Luckies.

Mayhap Eugene’s daddy is also

A mailman. A fine profession

For a fine individual, like Eugene O’Neil

Or Eugene Ionesco

Put up your aching legs when you get home

Have a beer and close your eyes

And rest, rest, rest.

....

His daddy is not a mailman.