BY LAWRENCE “MACK” HALL

An envelope in the post office parking lot

A woman parks next to it, looks down, and sneers

And puffs and heaves her ponderousness inside

To dock at the counter and make demands

I rescue the envelope and note the name and address

Oh, yes. I remember. That was all so sad

At least the daughter’s in the Army and safe enough

It’s a Christmas card. The man must have dropped it

I leave it at the counter, explaining the circs

The postal clerk accepts it back, and sneers