My mother always said, That the milkman was the devil. The way he comes a'clinking, Every day at hellish hours, That horrid, loathsome rattling. That way he chugs Without a care. And we collect him, wordlessly- Grabbing necks, without thinking; Catching souls who are the last - Or are the first - to reach the steps, At darkish hours, even if the world Outside Is bitter with a cold. For all you know, He's sneezed his way throughout his life. For all you know, He's maybe sneezed into the glasses He so lovingly arranges, On every step, on every path- With a sultry smile that says: "I've seen your face somewhere before." He's grinning at the housewives, While snorting at their children Playing goose with their little shadows, As they run the street at midnight. In his stubby vehicle, he brakes before the Headlights Meets with their milky faces... A good excuse to take them home to wives, Without their precious lambs. Smiling As he spans the threshold Into your domain.
© copyright Eve Redwater 2012