Absence and Wishes
Fifty-odd hours until you get home
Wish I could write you a love song
with stolen tunes
and AI-supplied smoky voice
to make you shiver and long
for our hugs again
Wish I could see you
with my AR glasses
sitting next to me one chair over
and hear you sneeze (twice?… twice)
when the heater kicks in
Wish I could roll over in the morning
to snuggle you next to me
while the alarm pokes us (“One more, okay?”)
every nine minutes
snoozed by my watch
Wish I could hear about
the time you are having
with sisters by blood and by marriage
playing games and telling stories
while being just gals again
Wish I could be more patient
knowing some wishes will come true
before too long
My wife Deb is in Ocean City, Maryland this weekend with her sister and sister-in-law, hanging out. No kids, no grands, just the gals — or “queenagers,” as Deb has styled them. “What are you going to do at the shore in the middle of winter?” they were asked; they’re just hangin’, is all.
