The Weather Is Here, Wish You Were Fine

Sun drenched afternoons

Spent doing nothing special

Alone, to do as I please

Wake up when I want

Go to bed, anytime I choose

I can watch countless bad movies

Spend endless hours at the bar

I can waste all day and night

Catching reruns of M*A*S*H

Cloistered in my boxers

With one hand in a Doritos bag

And the other scratching my nuts

I won’t have to do laundry

Or wash any dishes

I can decide to let the phone ring

Or waste hours on it

Catching up with old friends

I can shit with the door open

Sing in the shower

Or, better yet, not shower at all

It’s all up to me

My choice

No one to tell me what to do

I don’t even need to go and collect the rent

I might even give those lazy bastards the week off, too

I could have spent it in Costa Rica

But even there, things can get crazy

Nope, not this time

Just me, tucked away in this little shack

A king and his castle

Worry free

No stress

No obligations

Just one glorious week

That was last Sunday night

Seven long nights ago

A head full of debauchery and sloth

Thoughts of torpid mornings

Twisting into apathetic, lethargic nights


Seven blissful mornings and evenings ahead, calling my name

All gone

Flattened like a fly with the morning news

The moment I answered

That child-like screeching, devil worshiping doorbell

And saw your pretty face

Instead of dark pinot’s, poured into stemmed golblits of bliss

I had you

A momentary lapse of oxygen hit me

As I stared at you

With arms stretched out in “V” formation

I was awarded this equivocal visit with endless hours of ‘remember when’ blathers

And timely decisions of who we need to call, and when

I had the privilege of cooking for you

French foods, mostly

Being your favorite and the most persnickety to cook

I enjoyed the benefit, only by a person beyond the advantages of most

Of doing your laundry

Hand washing panties and bras

Because of the small fortune it would take to replace them

Shoulder massages, foot massages

All the attentive and indulgent treatments

Poured onto you

Like kisses from the gods

Not that I never had time alone

I did

The times I would slink away to the bathroom

And sit on the toilet, with my pants on, and the door closed

To secretly enjoy a tallboy filled with lukewarm scotch

Slowly, wretchedly, the week slugged by

Until I saw you again, at the doorstep

Arms outstretched in the infamous “V” formation

And your exclamations of how fast the time went by

Now alone, I pour myself a cocktail

Sink into the couch

And try to find something to do

I think I’ll go collect the rent

Those lazy bastards have had an extra week

It’s time for someone else to pay up

© Dicky J Loweman 2014





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