A Letter

A Letter

 

My mum is in love with the postman.

Well, not really.

Sometimes, though, I daydream that she is

(Yes, I know it’s wicked, but

You’ve got to admit, he

Looks like a spy or something—a

Good spy, mind you)

And that some morning my brother will wake up

And he’ll wake me up

And we’ll walk into the kitchen

To find a note which says:

Dear Children,

I have run off with the postman,

Who was secretly

An Australian ambassador

(He owns a sheep ranch!),

But don’t fret.

I will write every day and

I will be back in three months

With presents for all of you.

We will buy the house across the street—

The one between the Hanson’s and Don’s

[The postman is very wealthy]—

And have a maid.

Tell your father I regret any inconvenience,

And remind him that David has a doctor’s appointment Thursday.

Love,

Mum

[Except she would sign “Mom.”]

It is an odd daydream—

The whole affair is ridiculous, I know.

Still, I have named the postman Alan.