A Sonnet In Memory Of The Saturday Mail

In an effort to trim their budget down a bit (by a bit, I mean $2 billion), the US Postal Service has announced a plan to end Saturday mail and cut back to a five-day delivery schedule. As I’ve mentioned before, I am a huge fan of the postal service and I have a giant crush on my mailman, so this news comes as a crushing blow. And sometimes, when pain is this acute, there’s only one way to express it: in iambic pentameter. Read on for my embarrassingly dramatic Sonnet to the Saturday Mail…

Alas, I never thought it could be true
that mail would cease to come on Saturdays,
that mailmen would hang up their shorts of blue,
and take a break for two entire days.
But what about our Netflix DVDs?
And coupon books, and bills, and frozen food?
And those intangible deliveries:
of smiles and faith in civil servitude?
O mailman, promise me you won’t forget
the way we both could read between the lines
those weekends when so sweetly our eyes met
as I was staring at you ‘twixt the blinds.
Now we must spend our Saturdays apart;
to save 2 billion bucks, you broke my heart.