Somalia
Not even 10 minutes ago
I signed for my neighbor’s package,
a rather suspicious-looking package
shipped all the way from some distant land.
Somalia?
Beats me;
the writing on the label
is far too poor to decipher.
In retrospect
this wasn’t a wise move on my part.
I shouldn’t have heeded the knocking
on his door across the landing,
shouldn’t have emerged from my lair
to play Mr. Helpful Fellow Tenant…
“I’ll see that he gets this,”
I said to the mail carrier.
And I will—
The sooner I part with this thing,
the better.
For all I know
I’m currently in possession of cocaine,
ecstasy, anthrax, explosives, child pornography
or even a snuff film.
Don’t get me wrong.
He seems like a nice enough guy.
Quiet, keeps to himself.
But that’s pretty much what
the neighbors said about Dahmer,
after the cops found a head
in his refrigerator.
Horror Sleaze Trash 