I love NPR, but hearing this poem called “Why I Have A Crush on You, UPS Man,” I’m also reminded of why I sometimes think of them as a dorky sixth grader with no friends.
Not to hit a mosquito with a baseball bat, but hearing this read by a crusty-voiced man does the poem no good whatsoever. (Especially since it was followed by some rambling nonfiction piece about some kind of dysfunction that sounded like it was written by some extremely anal person who insisted on cataloguing each part of their lives in minute and tedious detail.)
However, this is also a good example of what I call “one man’s sanity is another’s insanity”. Because, you see, dear readers, for the narrator of the poem it’s a light whimsy. For the UPS delivery guy…this is his worst fucking nightmare–the customer who obsesses over him. The idiot who answers the door who wants to run off with him, and all he wants to do is his job, followed by a nice night at home with his wife and kids.
You see this in fiction quite a bit. Where the writer thinks they’ve written a story from the point of view of a narrator who is quite sane. But, if you look at the actions in the story from anyone’s point of view but the narrator’s…that person is clearly unwell.
I’m reminded of some readers (mostly men) who think Dradin in “Dradin, In love” is actually a normal person…