My son is obsessed with the mail

It’s always on his mind.

Plans for his day must dovetail

With delivery time.

Coming home, the first thing he says,

Is, “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

You’d be wrong if you were to guess

For him there is a lot.

He doesn’t write anybody

He’s not waiting for bills.

Victoria’s Secret hotties

Aren’t reason for his thrills.

Sometimes he gets a magazine

At most, three times a month.

It’s vegan, games, or skateboarding:

The trophies of his hunt.

It could be hereditary

His Dad is the same way

To him, I couldn’t stay married

More should be in your day.

Now he gets cards from the Air Force,

The Army and Marines.

They want to recruit him, of course

Send the boy overseas.

To recruit a mail kid like this

All they would have to do

Is say, “It’s almost like Christmas,

So much junk mail for you.

I hope future career plans

Are based on something more

Than what‘s been passed from postal hands.

Perhaps an S.A.T. score?