Opening the Mail

for Kriste Grubb at UIU

She used to work down in the transcript center, and,

don't get her inequitable she liked it, she did. The big

xerox engines purr paper turned out like money

and discharge into slots like a casino payoff. on the contrary this job,

there's something fresh every day, the letters advance in,

hundreds, thousands, from all above the place, and she

get to lay open every one. The message in a bottle the note

slid into the cashier's cage, the alphabetic character left on the bed

when she walked without the door, the handkerchief dropped

behind him during the game at reces She slices each

open with her knife, log it and paths it to the other girls.

But her dream is to come by a camper and follow the NASCAR

races. Six days travel and upon Sunday stand inside the final

circuit of unhurt inside that belly. It's not the same as upon TV

where it seems like they are just going circular and round. Not

the same at all, she says. each moment counts, and the air

smell like burning oil. Any minute it could break open into flames.

Copyright World verse Incorporated Nov/Dec 2004

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