in the hands of others

the mail

is unreliable.

it comes, or it doesn't come.

there's a new

mail

person every other day.

sometimes

it's late,

sometimes

it's in a neighbor's box,

or torn

or wet from the rain.

i find

on the street my retirement

statement,

a valentine card

from a sweetie.

last months electric bill,

now late.

so often our lives turn

on the hands

of others.