Dear Norm,
I thought you should know, not
that there's anything inherently suspicious, per se,
in such conduct, that there is a round-headed
man with wispy hair standing out there
between the mailbox and the road, with
a wistful, dreamy gleam in his eye,
almost, arguably, the shine of religious fervor,
as though he'd just whetted his evangelical
blade on fresh scripture, consecrating it to blood,
or was a prospective pipe bomber casing the place,
or lying in wait, a disgruntled postal
customer, for the carrier to arrive.
If you should ask him, he will just say
here I am, waiting for a letter from
that cute red-headed girl, but I
have not asked him. I see that he is surely
a nut, intent on orchestrating a great grief.
Please act before it is too late!
Yours, in liberty,
Terrified in America.
