If you were hit, dear, by a truck,
And I were left without you-
I wonder then who I would, er,
Sorry--let me start over.
I wonder up with whom I'd end
Among our unwed female friends.
Â
There is the woman nicknamed "Midge"
Who meets with friends for contract bridge.
She's quite well-dressed and "pulled together,"
If ill says she feels "Under the weather."
There's Tupperware inside her fridge-
I do not think it would be Midge.
Â
There's Tricia with her mountain bike
Who likes to go on longish hikes.
Tri-athlete and marathoner
With super-wicking clothes upon her.
She wears me out just thinking of her--
Trish wouldn't have me as her lover.
There's Julie-she's the cineaste--
Au courant woman with a past.
Prefers her novels cutting-edge
And once was talked down from a ledge.
I'll say this now and mean it truly--
I do not think it would be Julie.
As I my merlot do imbibe
My prospects thus seem circumscribed.
Perhaps I'd end up all alone
With empty mailbox, silent phone.
I like our life in quiet burb-
Be careful stepping off the curb.
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First published in Light. Available in print and Kindle format as part of the collection "The Girl With the Cullender on Her Head."
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Comments: 8
It's a little long for a Hallmark card, but otherwise it's perfect.