The Delivery Boy, a poem by Dilip Mohapatra at Spillwords.com

The Delivery Boy

The Delivery Boy

written by: Dilip Mohapatra

 

I press the doorbell
and you appear to take delivery of
your pizza box
and as I am about to leave,
you ask me why the circular pizzas
are cut into triangles
and packed in a square box.
I shrug with a fizz
tip my cap and say:
“I am not a math whiz
but just a delivery boy.”

Another day another door
another query comes my way
“Why’s the soda hot but the pizza’s cold
what’s the logic, any way?”
I chuckle and say
with a sheepish little smile
“I’m not a thermodynamic guile!
but just a delivery boy.”

And then there’s the one
who asks with a frown so deep
“Why’s the ice cream melting,
and the cake still asleep?”
I shrug and say with a laugh and a wink
“Sir, I’m not a cryogenic link!
but just a delivery boy.”

Another client who had ordered groceries
and vegetables
was livid and wanted to know
why were the tomatoes
at the bottom of the bag
below the potatoes?
I take my usual stance and say
“Sir blame it on the packers
I am just a delivery boy!”

I go home weary and tired
and park my dusty and rickety cycle
against the de-plastered wall
and before I could enter
my young wife blocks the door
standing with a bag full of dirty clothes
and orders me to deliver
it to the laundry in the corner.
I pick it up without a whimper
after all
I am just a delivery boy!

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