the deliverymen

the kitchen was set.

the screen door

screeched when it opened

and screeched when it closed.

some flies moved in

as others moved out

depending on the invitation.

the deliverymen

came with their goods

and with their bills

for services rendered.

eggs and milk, and bread,

and coal and kerosine.

the Encyclopedia Brittanica

came in with a heavy attitude. 

Phil came inside with the tube

the Zenith needed in order

to perform, and to free us

from the dark ages.

he bobbed and weaved behind

the blonde-veneered 4-

legged beauty, as he struggled

to detach the old tube,

and ‘though it was “no good for nothin’”

–– still, he placed it in the compartment

of his toolkit as one would place

the dead parakeet into the vacant

Ohio Blue Tip matchbox with its

uniquely magical sliding lid.

also delivered were tails

of Italian sausage

from Gioconni’s on the corner

of Healy and Quarry streets.