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What did my lover say, Mister mail man? Mister hot-shot know-it-all! Saunter over to me with that heavy gift bag. Tip toe over those feathered lone spires of green, to me! -Alas, alas. My blood boils with anticipation, reverberating spasms of ecstasy from cell to spine, from shingle to concrete, shaking the confines of my body -this silly, elastic skin. Nothing today, Ma'am, he says as he tips his awkward hat atop his dapper, sun-kissed face. Galloping past me, neighing almost in mockery, as he spindles his web throughout the neighborhood.