A Slam Poem About a Mailman?!? You did what?!?

Yeah, I wrote and performed a poem about my mailman. I even won a slam with it. This little piece of literature earned me a free sandwich from the cafe that hosted the slam. How many sandwich-winning performance pieces about mailmen are out there? Not many. Not many at all.

The Mail Man

There is a very special man

unto whom I owe a lot.

He has a very difficult job and

generally gives it all he’s got.

He’s been brightening my late mornings-slash-

early afternoons since I was a tot.

He’s such a swell dude, it doesn’t even

matter if the weather outside is cold or hot.

This one’s for you my man, my main man, a man’s man,

you mad mass of made man, you mean monkey of a man,

my mail man.

The mail man comes to my house

every day of the week

except Sundays,

holidays that I get off from work

holidays that I don’t get off from work

and birthdays of dead guys

that are so dead that

celebrating their birthdays

kind of seems a little morbid and freaky.

He brings me presents in little envelopes and baggies.

He saves me money on pizzas and laundry detergent.

He lets me know who is having a sale.

He lets me know how to buy expensive clothes

and mini-golf sets you play while sitting

on the toilet.

He talks to my grandma and lets me know how

she is doing and even occasionally gives me

a twenty dollar bill that smells like my grandma

but I know it came from you, mail man.

The mail man.

The mail man, I know, braves sleet and snow,

I know, mail man, I know,

you have to drive that ridiculous little truck,

I know, I know, mail man,

you have to be outside

while all the best soap operas are on TV

mail man, I know, I know,

those shorts are really

Short and really tight

and I know that that’s gotta chafe

and I know you walk a lot

and I know dogs really suck

and I know paper cuts are a bitch

and I know email is ruining your life

and I know payday isn’t so great

and I know people sometimes don’t shovel

and I know you hate the term going postal

but I just gotta ask

I just gotta ask you for one thing

I just gotta see if you’ll do me this one favor

I just gotta know, so here goes -

I just wanna see a little mail man shuffle.

I just wanna watch you in some postal groove.

I just want a little shimmy with my catalogs.

I just want some rock and roll when you’re on the move.

I tell you what mail man,

I’ll put additional stamps on my letters

I’ll lick my envelopes a couple extra times

I’ll double check all my zip codes

I’ll even write out the full return address

with my name and everything

not just the street and city,

like I know you hate.

I’ll do this all for you.

And all I want in return

is for you to do the worm down my sidewalk

and moonwalk your way to my front door

I want you to slap me five

tell me how good I look

offer me a bite of your beef jerky

ask if I want the neighbor’s porno mag

hand me some bills then

take them back and pay them

hand me some packages

because packages are always cooler than letters

and then you backflip back to your

ridiculous little truck

and honk and wave,

mail man,

honk and wave.

You are a good man, mail man,

I just need a little funky sauce

from your funky mail bag.