this morning #1170.

this morning, it was supposed to be one of those routine deliveries on my morning route. easy-peasy early morning stuff. “take this bouquet. deliver it to 1169 maple.” no mention of the aggressive dog waiting for me on the other side of a six-foot wooden fence. no note added to the order to inform me that a stout, bald white man will be awakened by his guard dog’s bark & come ambling out of the house demanding to know what the fuss is all about. the flowers i’m holding won’t put him at ease. i’ll tell him they’re for denise & learn that he’s not pleased with denise. he’ll offer up a few explicit thoughts about what i can do with my delivery. i’ll just leave the flowers on the curb & back away slowly.