Mailfemale

It’s unfortunate that my mailbox is small.
Everyday I have to curse my mailperson.
She is my mail person after all;
It seems funny to call her my mailfemale.
But everyday when I arrive home
I find my letters, bills, magazines and advertisements
Crushed beyond an acceptable level.
It’s not the grocery coupons that bother me;
I am just going to mumble something about trees
As I toss them in the trash.
It’s not even the bills or magazines.
My debtors’ already expect unkept paperwork
And the magazines read the same.
It's the rare letter that I expect to come any day now
From a lost loved one or secret admirer,
Whom certainly will never be
The wench that stuffs my deliveries.