Traffic clump huddles at the feet of five-story buildings.
Tailpipe frustrations steam from idling engines.
Impatience roils from a rolled down window
of a red minivan with a single headlight.
Speak-to-your-manager-hair wearing gal –
grabs the attention of one passer-by,
What’s all this ruckus? Please, give me a reason!
What’s with this bozo. It’s making me cranky.
That box truck is blocking my way to get through
I can’t wait much longer. I have things to do.
Wearing tie-dyed toboggan, sunglasses, broad grin,
USPS pants, button-up shirt to match,
passer-by answers from right side of the street,
“What professional driver parks so far from the curb?
The hazards flash yellow but show no concern.
Casting such chaos in nets over others
just to deliver two day packaged goods.”
Yes, you understand it. Imagine the nerve?
Some half minded click-fest in wee hours of night
caused today’s standstill. I say it’s not right.
“Because of those clicks, this delivery driver
with gloves on his fingers was required to cradle
and heft precious parcel with its smile on the side
up goo riddled stairwell to flight number five.”
“Relativity stricken; it just wouldn’t budge.”
What’s the deal with the stairs? How did they add up?
The stairwell equation: E = MC Escher + Wonka squared.
Warped tarpit illusion, oozing dank sweat sock smells.
A saccharide marshland, hard candy outcrops,
stream beds of soda spilled last week and dried,
gummy bear creatures with mad looks in their eyes,
the shoes of the hopeless, half sunk in molasses,
abandoned by owners in desperate attempts
to escape the quagmire before being sensed
by the gummy goo monster always quick to descend
and gobble up travelers caught in its strands.”
This is surreal. Are you making this up?
“I shoot from the hip, my friend, and hips do not lie.
Sounds like a challenge.
A challenge to some, but our swift dodger of hazards
jumped the goo gummy monster, left it to gurgle in dust.
He went on to climb the staircase double helix
up, left, and down, through top, bottom, and middle
til the web surfer’s door popped into existence.”
Did he remember to knock?
“He knocked twice, just as all postmen do.
Our guy’s a cool cat, so he rapped a double tap rap.
He thrummed a wool-wrapped-knuckles-against-the-metallic-door-frame-twice-over rap.
A spirograph voice from behind the door warbled,
‘I’m in the bath, soaking. If you will, please just leave it.
I expect any moment, Dali will come by and retrieve it.’
That’s just what our guy did. He completed the drop,
then, retraced his steps through the pitching, the yawing,
the twisting and twizzle of five story levels
set to deliver the next cubic cardboard delight.”
An epic adventure, I’ll give you that,
but why is this truck still parked curbside?
“The answer is simple as simple can be.
You flagged me down, insisting to know about my delivery.”
Wait, say again. What was that name?
“The voice squiggled ‘Dali’ through my inner ear.”
Dali, you say. The name’s quite familiar
You know my name is strikingly similar
Now, this can mean only one thing.
My accessories, my accessories you bring!
- Chris Miller