I get back from work to find a pile of plates parked for me at
the kitchen sink and you, the quintessential couch potato, could
not leave your can of Heineken or favorite soap to clean up,
and you say you don’t want an argument?
That you were laid off is no reason to tick me off!
I have had enough of your self pity.
Go get a life. Go out into the sunlight. Shed some weight, why?
I want to see a reduction to that waist line.
I want you looking sharp like Pitt, I want you dressed in a tux
like Bond.
I want you to take me to dinner (I have always fancied the
Ritz), with I, in that wicked red dress I bought last summer—
our arms linked like movie stars’, the envy of every couple in
the place.
(Excerpted from “Without a Name” a collection of poems by Val
.K., coming soon.)
Val .K. is a poet, and a nature lover. A collection of his poems
“Without a Name” will soon be published by AuthorHouse, U.S.A.
For personal contact, send mails to:
[email protected]