PO Trauma

I walked into the post office with my christmas cards. 

The line was long. 

Full of sweet old ladies. 

Humble older men.

Moms.

Dads. 

People.

The spirit of Christmas floated in the air. 

I chit chatted with a few people. 

Our eyes sparkled while holding our post. 

Finally, it was my turn. 

But I ended up having to go back to the line after filling out a needed form. 

I spoke to another sweet lady.

And then a man spoke. 

He looked familiar. 

Almost like the town's worst sex offender. 

He looked like Steven Tibbetts - a man who was in jail for assaulting women. 

Surely it wasnt him.

He was in jail.

We kept talking. 

He complemented me.  

Flirted with me. 

Hit on me. 

He told me I looked good. 

Suddenly the post man at the desk spoke up. 

"Steve I have your package for you up here." 

My heart stopped. 

I was just hit on...pursued by the man I thought was behind bars. 

And I felt sick. 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Honest and real thoughts in the poetry. Some people can scare us. You create bad situation that got worst. Than you dear Kathryn for sharing your powerful words and thoughts.
Coyote