“Is there anybody there?” said the postman,
knocking on the cat scratched door,
and he peered through a filthy window
and was disgusted by what he saw.

On the kitchen floor he could just make out,
through the grimy, obscured pane,
signs that a large dog lived there that could not
be arsed to go out in the rain.

He thumped the door again, a second time;
“is there anybody in?” he said,
and over an upstairs leaf fringed sill
appeared a recently awoken head.

A red, bloated face framed by greasy hair
stared down with dull, yellowed eyes
into those of the startled postman’s,
which stared back in surprise.

“I have brought you a parcel,” said the postman,
as he stood there, stared upon,
I know not what is in the package,
but it comes from Amazon.

Presently the door was opened wide
by a man, sweaty and unclean,
pyjama slit wide open showing things
the postman wished he had not seen.

And the air that escaped from that foul house
was not meant to be breathed by man
and the sight of the squalor that dwelt inside
made a pigsty look spick and span.

“Where is my parcel”, said a toothless mouth
beneath a nose exuding snot.
“it’s here”, said the postman, thrusting it forth,
then turning, off he shot.

Later, the postman passed a homeless man
begging, downcast on the street.
He stopped and reached in his bag and pulled out
a sandwich he could no longer eat.