A row of mailboxes of various heights

Junk Mail

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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