Junk Mail

A row of mailboxes of various heights

Solicitations from strangers

Though human lips do not deliver them,
Nor paper envelopes conceal their faces,
Words of strangers crowd my inbox daily:
Unsolicited advice for debt
Relief and male enhancement; credit scores
And super deals from one-eight-hundred-flowers;
Christian singles seeking harmony
And mothers making millions staying home.
My expectations rise and fall each morning
While I sort and sift through digital
Debris. I disregard by subject line.
My name is Jonathan, not Jeremy!
These messages no sooner sent than dead—
Delete! They’re doomed to die before they’re read.

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