She left behind a neatly typed <br />on purple paper, note, pinned to <br />the bathroom mirror's lower left. <br />It read 'Go f*** yourself from now', <br />by that she must have been referring to, <br />at least that is my take of this, <br />his mediocre, piddly own devices <br />It made me wonder briefly though <br />about the departeé, and had she, <br />perhaps not thought it through? <br />Their life, right after sex, each time <br />had always been so full of smoke, <br />and mirrors. The smoke came from <br />les Gauloises françaises, no filter <br />the mirror (K-mart) smiled or frowned <br />down from the ceiling, sometimes less <br />due to the steam that had been generated. <br />It had been good though, so they tell me, <br />and never once did he experiment, nor had to <br />with what was now in all the cards, oh struth, <br />his own devices, stupid bitch, that woman. <br />He wondered briefly about going hunting <br />down at the Sunset Strip in Hollywood, <br />but then the bell rang twice, and with relief <br />and somewhat diaphoretic anticipation <br />he knew it would turn out alright again, <br />her job was with the Postal Service, rain or sleet.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-postman-always-rings-twice/
