Dear UPS Man

take it down to the train station
where your mother's probably waiting with a sigh and dark-circled eyes
she reveals her age without speaking

take it up to the second floor
place it in front of the wired-shut door
and hold your breath, the smell of love-making oozes from the cracks
a fuck for good luck while the kids play black jack

ship it to the north during winter
for skinny legs that pass as splinters
lying in the palms of men-stained night clubs
tucked in dark corners downtown
her name is Lilth, her Revelon-red hair covered with his filth
but she doesn't mind, just something to pass the time

hold on tight, don't start a fright
amongst old women still pushing their hearts to their sleeves
burning their bras and flying ribbons on All Hallows Eve
they tell you stories of a forever lasting period: not worthy for the maxi!
respect, respect, respect