The care home where my route begins is divided into three sections, the last of which is where they care for those who are beginning to drift.On newspapers, reminding people of their name, and the knack of being loved.<a href="http://www.postofficepoems.com/">postofficepoems.com</a> <a href="http://www.patreon.com/postofficepoems">patreon.com/postofficepoems</a> <a href="http://www.ebenhoffer.com/">ebenhoffer.com</a>

The care home where my route begins is divided into three sections, the last of which is where they care for those who are beginning to drift.On newspapers, reminding people of their name, and the knack of being loved.postofficepoems.com patreon.com/postofficepoems ebenhoffer.com

The care home where my route begins is divided into three sections, the last of which is where they care for those who are beginning to drift.On newspapers, reminding people of their name, and the knack of being loved.<a href="http://www.postofficepoems.com/" rel="noopener noreferrer">postofficepoems.com</a> <a href="http://www.patreon.com/postofficepoems" rel="noopener noreferrer">patreon.com/postofficepoems</a> <a href="http://www.ebenhoffer.com/" rel="noopener noreferrer">ebenhoffer.com</a>

Poem #16: The knack of being loved

My brother is a letter carrier for the United States Post Office. Every day, he walks around and puts mail into slots on people's houses. He also writes poetry.
Post Office Poems is a series of short meditations on existing in your body in the real world, the joys and tragedies of bureaucracy, and The Mail.
Take a moment with us to consider the glue that holds our mutual lives together: the discount glue, that is only sort of sticky, that you can't get off your shirt.

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My brother is a letter carrier for the United States Post Office. Every day, he walks around and puts mail into slots on people's houses. He also writes poetry. Post Office Poems is a series of short meditations on existing in your body in the real world, the joys and tragedies of bureaucracy, and The Mail. Take a moment with us to consider the glue that holds our mutual lives together: the discount glue, that is only sort of sticky, that you can't get off your shirt.

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Poem #16: The knack of being loved

Poem #16: The knack of being loved