Please Mr. Postman

It was a strange day yesterday . . . but I dig the strange.

Dear Mr. Postman,
I walked by your UPS truck as you dilly-dallied in Panera Bread, delivering a package or getting a coffee, I'll never know. I heard the guitar coming out of your door-less cockpit, I bet you like feeling the breeze on that patch of skin that shows between the cuff of your pant leg and the top of your sock . . . your whole ankle . . . you exhibitionist. Mr. Postman I will not include you in the lost loves of my life, I find that I happen upon you men in the oddest times of my life. And Mr. Postman why I think I love you, excuse the word "love" (I know what the word means to me, and I LOVE to use it . . . ) but I'm pressed for time you see, so "love" will suffice. Yes back to my reasons, let me bullet them for ease

• I have a thing for men in uniform, but I can tell you're kind of a rebel which brings me to
  
• I have a thing for rebels (with or without a cause, a rebel is still a rebel to me)
• Seeing you at my door with a package generally makes my day
• Knowing you bring smiles to the faces of others makes my day even more
• you had THIS song blaring out of your truck and well . . . if that ain't fate, I don't know what is . . .

Please Mr. Postman, you don't have to bring me any letters, just play that song from time to time and think of me.

Dream hard and play fair
XOXO
Cindy