in love with the milk man

i miss the milk

man, she tells her son,

looking longingly out

the window.

it was wonderful,

the metal box on the stoop

with a glass

bottle

of milk,

eggs, bread

and juice.

a pound of bacon

too.

his big square truck,

left

to idle at the curb

as he scurried up

the porch

to deliver the goods.

his bright white uniform

and hat,

always with a smile.

he was dashing.

sometimes

he'd beep or wave if

he saw me

coming out in my

robe,

sometimes,

he'd leave a sweet

roll, or two,

a cute little card,

and now there's something

i have to tell you

son,

something about

you.