the new mail man

i see the new mail
man
with his leather sack
strapped
across his uniform,
his blue shirt,
his sweat.
hey, i say. where's the old
guy.
haven't seen him in a while.
he's dead, he says
calmly.
died. had a heart attack.
he hands me my mail.
a bill or two.
flyers.
something from the IRS.
he tips his hat,
then moves on
to the next house.
i go inside and put
the mail on the table.