Delivery

The sun-baked, delivery boy on a beat up bike

Blazing down busy, one-way streets

Ignoring every traffic rule and sign

Cutting off the lady cursing him through clenched teeth

Jumping curbs so food slops on carton tops

Swearing as he climbs the stairs of city walk-ups

Finally, huffs at your door on the fifth floor

With a pain in his chest

Because you’re passed out, piss drunk on the couch

Too far gone to hear him knocking

So all you’ll get is the angry message he left

Found crusted on your front door.

~kfu