Milk Run

My husband put on his coat and shoes

and pecked my lips.

“I’m going to pick up some milk;

do you need anything?”

I could use a few extra hours in the day.

I want the ones with crème filling,

batteries included.

I need three quarts of bubble-gum flavored optimism

and a cup of realism to balance out the side-effects.

Eh . . . forget the realism.

I‘ll substitute a teaspoon of pessimism—I’ve got plenty of that on-hand.

Oh, just one more thing:

When you find the aisle

with heartbreak

and swing dancing lessons

please load up on baby kisses.

They’re seasonal, you know.

And unlike most things,

they won’t be around forever.

Thanks to my husband for the photography-skill. Stay tuned later this week for my Evan sonnet. And this Mother's Day, I will be posting a video of my slam (spoken-word) poem on motherhood that I guarantee you won't want to miss.

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