For Fresno’s Best Process Service Call Hermes

True, my office is a gold Camino nineteen eighty-two & front-work’s on a laptop, but there are older tricks: this knack I have to spy a sham address: figures pried off siding or the silhouette that’s left when eight is changed to three; my talent to discern the perp who hides behind the car or ducks among the bins or sidles, slams the screen & tries for silence then behind his gutted door. Some will wave a gun or summon dogs. Once a rooster. Once an alderman who menaced with a mallet (croquet) when his trucking company was sued & there’s still this lucent bruise on my right heel— long story: swan shot, tree house, veteran. Though no one wants this dachshund’s weight of paper compiled by some paralegal underpaid in Phoenix, I assure you I will always serve. I am the envoy (a ball cap hides my third eye). Put me in swift shoes or wings, at some cosmic door with only sky behind— black-clad, the Prophet of Xerox, steadfast bearer of a clerk court’s smeared truncated seal. I know these streets: the houses boarded up, the other heralds driving slow on fractured blacktop; the sidewalks’ glass & fenders scattered; vacant quarter acres returning now to palm & pampas, trees of heaven. I am waiting at the crossroads, here at your broken gate where barbed acacias stoop to shade my trespass.