DINNER WITH THE MRS.
cool night
reflections of the moon
in her eyes
silent phrase
the look on her face says
I wonder what the kids are doing?
short drive now long
frustrated
still don’t know our destination
familiar sentiment
the bounce in her walk
still drives me crazy
impatient
unrecognized by our waiter
tip shrinks every minute
rubbing hands
lips of concern asks
How was your day?
fatigued
game over
eyes bigger than stomach
inflation
am I on an episode of punked?
this bill must be wrong
Arthur? Arthur?
I swear I hear the bed
-calling my name
home again
an evening to remember
sleeping in the arms of my best friend
|