no forwarding address

a letter arrives
in the mail.
the thin narrow
sealed
envelope of standard
proportions.
stamp in the corner,
a liberty
bell.
no scent to speak of.
no clue
as to who from.
no forwarding address.
the handwriting on
the front
unfamiliar
though a hand has
written my name
upon it.
my address too.
why open it?
why know
what's been said,
what's to enter my head.
what words
will be there
to make me change course.
to alter
my tomorrows.
perhaps it's nothing.
so often that's the case
these days
with mail.