All I can think and hope

by on June 5, 2012 :: 0 comments

Heading back home finally after 6 interminably
long days and nights away at yet another
supercilious waste-of-time business meeting.
(All we have is time, isn’t it?)

The shadow of the airplane follows along far below,
a dark, ghostly smudge sliding eerily
across the bright snowy landscape,
over fences and barns, rocks and roads
and cars and lakes and trees.

And all I can think about (as usual),
all I can picture in my mind (yes, yes, we know)
is me sitting on my heating pad
watching my documentaries on TV,
sipping my beloved Starbuck’s iced coffee,
my stunningly beautiful, sweet
and radiant wife close nearby, where she belongs,
doing something or other on her i-pad.

And all I can hope (beyond all hopes),
is that she is indeed still there
and hasn’t yet run off
with that pesky lawn-care guy
with the big arms full of fuzzy tattoos.

editors note:

Many of us share the same hope and possibly the same lawn-care guy. Ensure familial stability, eschew fuzzy tattoos! – mh

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