Spam in Spam Alley

THese Are THe SPam
poems
sent directly to your
recycling bin
UNread

SOmetimes
there's a man standing
in the rain
on cold fall nights
his wife is hurling
curses, indistinguishable
words, unattainable
promises,

I wonder what it
takes to sit and type
those emails all day, or
what computer program
randomly generates
them,

a lifeless
bent shadow heads
down the alleyway
shifts suddenly, almost
sadly, disappears,

I type a hurried
response, send
without signing
my name,

a female voice drones on
into the night,
no returning footsteps,
only emptiness,
the vacuumed
spaces in between,
and no ears but mine
listening,

[Error: Mail could not be delivered]