Somebody out there is trying to reach me.
Person or persons unknown are sending me
endless coded messages every morning.
You know who you are. I hear you. Every
morning, or sometimes late at night,
I hear you; I’m receiving you clearly.
I get about a billion words a day.
Is that all you’ve got? Is that all you’re
putting out, or am I missing something?
Thanks for keeping in touch, keeping me
tethered. I’d be lost without you.

Thanks for your cancerous doctor update,
your spring in Singapore, the way the palm fronds
batter each other, not like the soft whisper
of aspens in Aspen in August. Thanks for
finally burying your dog in the back yard
and really meaning it. Thanks, especially,
for reminding me how I left you or you left me
because, well, what else could we do?
I don’t know, really. Thanks for
helping me figure things out.

And thanks for the TV gossip updates,
the cogent political analysis, the story about
how your mother kept every Pringles can
she ever emptied under her sink, leaving you
to find them there after she died
and wonder what the hell she was thinking.
Thanks for sending those naked pictures.
Is that you, or one of your girlfriends?
And who’s the guy? Please write again soon;
I need to know.

Thanks for giving me something to
think about, something to talk about when,
as usual, I’m at a loss for words in a crowd or,
just as likely, at home alone. Thanks for
keeping me company all these years,
even though I thought I made it clear
that I’m not buying anything. Still, thanks
for the reminders about the ready availability
of male enhancement, hard times ahead,
why I need a good backup Bible, and
how to penetrate the tough publishing market.
Thanks. Thanks, but no. Really.

Finally, just let me say thanks for each and
every keystroke you’ve ever made
with only me in mind. Thanks for each
and every pixel, each of those blessed images
that come floating across the void to me,
and every syllable of that untranslatable verse
you write and send to me here, sitting, waiting
to receive. Thank you, whoever you are. Thanks.

3 thoughts on “Receiver

  1. we must be on the same mailing lists, which are legion. You left out ladies from Russia who just want to marry me and have my babies (now that’s a tricky one), breast ehancement, hair restoration, dr.Oz of the teeth and too much hair, the weight loss people with their pictures of folks who havent made it yet…all for me, all for you. We are blessed.

  2. I think my spam filter may be better than yours. They’ve stopped suggesting I enlarge an appendage I don’t have;. But they do send me lots of writing-related stuff that I sometimes read and sometimes don’t. What I do appreciate is lots of communication with virtual friends.
    Your poem should reach a wider audience.

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