63

I wore bike shorts
a dingy Tee
sat at the Dupont fountain
a clipboard in my lap
a radio on my hip

I drank from a '40' of
Schlitz

I sat with others
some on 10 speeds
others on carbon
Gucci bikes

We listened to our
stories between listening
to our Motorola radios

Listening for dispatch

My call sign was six three
63

The fax machine
moved in that summer

I drank all day
baked in the sun
hit on flowering
city women who
couldn't help looking
at my crotch when I
made a delivery.

The FCC scanned our
Freq for Profanities

Courier is the best job ever

I lost a lot of friends
to taxis that summer

I could make 700 bucks a week
better than a Lawyer

I thought I saw Judy
poring over
Shadow Castle
(a thin green book
or fables)
on a bench
near the fruit loop.

©1995 chris abraham