Envelope Window

Looking through ice into a citizen’s mirror,
Here’s who you are and here’s how you live,
And here in your hand the facts wait within,
Your destiny captured in paper and print.

This is official, certified mail,
Its contents are classified, its postage paid.
Transactions and transfers appear in detail,
Payment expected within seven days.

This is an offer you cannot refuse,
A courtesy letter (regarding bad news),
A final reminder of fines overdue,
A billet of credit composed just for you.

This is an invoice you cannot escape,
A personalised present wrapped in red tape.
Your mortgage repayments are falling behind,
That contract was binding we think you’ll find.

This is an audit for falsified claims,
You can’t cheat the system, just play the game.
A failed application, results of a test,
A bona fide warrant for your arrest.

This is a message not quite from a friend,
Purely a grievance we have to extend,
Just letting you know you’re out of luck,
We understand the situation completely
— really, we do — but we don’t give a fuck.