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.
Eric RasmussenPoetry