in the mail

i write you a
note, a long
note of love
and admiration,
but i'm out
of stamps, so
i go to your
house to borrow
one, and you
ask me why
don't i just
give you
the envelope
instead of
mailing it
to me and
having to wait
three days,
but i say no,
that's not
how it works,
these things
take time,
they need to
be in the air,
in transport
across the miles,
handled with
care and sorted
before being
delivered.
but we live
right next
door to each
other, she
says, hands
on her hips,
bewildered. i
smooth the stamp
she gives me onto
the corner and
tell her, i
have to run, got
to go to the
post office.
see you later.