the delivery

the men, laughing
over something,
come to your door. it's
been a long
day. their shirts are
out.
five o'clock shadows
on both of them.
they may have
been drinking. it's
seven o'clock
at night.
one has food
on the front of his
overalls.
their hands are greasy.
one has a screw
driver in his paw
while the other
holds your 50 inch smart
tv on his shoulder.
it wobbles like a
sack of grain
he's carried from
the field.
we have your tv
mister, the one with
the screw driver
says. but it's broken.
they show
you the opened box,
both
pulling back scotch tape,
see, see. it's broken,
they say together,
pointing at
the cracked screen.
there is a hole gouged
out in the frame.
you can see inside
the tv. the wires,
the works.
you still want it
mister? we can plug it
in to see if it lights
up and makes sound.
you tell them no
thanks. which makes them
happy. their day is
over. okay. no problem
they say, waving as
they back the truck up
and drive off.
laughing again at
something.