Every day, at 3 o’ clock, on the dot, I check the mail.
I walk around the corner of the street in bare feet,
And I feel the sidewalk heat seep into my body,
Up my legs,
Making the skin tingle for the rest of the day.
The other day, a car turned around and followed me.
What will it be today,
Kidnapped or catcalled?
I got to the mailbox and he pulled up next to me, window down, head out.
Oh, he said, just checking the mail.
Yes, I said.
Just wanted to make sure you were okay, walking away with no shoes, you seemed to be in trouble.
No trouble, I said, just mail. Im okay. Thank you.
He pulled away.
Parked at the house next to mine.
Are you okay?
Do you feel this numbness as well?
Do you also wake up dizzy and strange?
I eat until I feel something.
I don’t until all I feel is hunger.
Your driveway is overflowing, neighbor.
Do you feel alone?
Do the dogs keep you up at night?
Does the news?
I’m sorry about the noise, neighbor.
I sing until my throat is sore, and then keep going.
I’m okay, neighbor.
I’m just checking the mail.
There’s nothing today,
But maybe tomorrow.