Everyone dislikes going to the Post Office,
And we all know why.
The walk going nowhere.
Or at least that’s how it feels.
Shuffle, glance, shuffle.
The moment you walk through the door,
The clock seems to slow to a stop,
Everything gets louder,
Pennies drop, keys jingle.
You begin moving in slow motion.
You’ve hardly made it a step,
And minutes have passed.
Shuffle, glance, shuffle.
You begin pondering,
Why are there six stations,
And only two workers.
Where is the logic.
Everything feels awkward,
You try not meeting gazes,
Or get caught staring,
Shuffle, glance, shuffle.
Your whole lunch break is speeding by,
And you can’t do anything to hurry up,
Shuffle, glance, shuffle.
Your up, and the employee goes on break,
The walk that goes nowhere.
Shuffle, glance, shuffle.
