Postcards

I send these tiny scraps of postmarked

stamp licked paper to family and friends;

sometimes they bear pictures of places

or humor, sometimes bearing the stain of

yellowed and aged paper holding emptiness.

On the back the small space allows for

minute bits of information, blips of communication;

an address.

Connections amount to no better than a pat on the shoulders, a

quick embrace, sometimes a slap on the head.

These minutias are bits of me for any that

care to read the outlines of my life and to

connect over the miles of space and tired trees and

even though you might not be able to decipher the scribble,

maybe a connection could happen-

a word, an image, even a laugh which would dive below

finger and eye, sinking beneath surfaces and we

might glance each other’s face.

“I wait for your

Response.”



Richard W Smith

February 21, 2011