if you wonder where i am

if you wonder where i am
ask the postman
he'll tell you my mail has piled up
packed and bursting into my sad copper bin
sitting in a row with all the other apartment boxes
210, 405, 108, that one's mine
"not sure where she's got off to," he'd say
"by the looks of this, she sure ain't here."
stuff, stuff, cram and shut.

if you haven't found me yet
ask the grocer
he runs the little market
next to the taco joint and the dry cleaner
he's seen me walk in with cloth bags
and walk out with wine, carrots and goat cheese.
"oh the red head with the taste for cheap red wine," he'd say,
all sure and unconcerned.
"haven't seen her in weeks."
brrrring, brrrring goes the door and the register.

if i'm still wandering about
ask the holy father
no doubt, he keeps tabs on me
he squelches my silly whims
he unveils my secrets and shouts them to the world
no dignity, nowhere to hide
"not for that sad little girl," he says.
"i'll tell you where she is, but first
love me as i love you."
for there is always a condition.