I’m feeling tired this morning. I got home from work at 2am and woke up with the baby at 6:30. It will be all over soon- the working until two, not the getting up part. I have to be back at work in a few hours and I’m sitting here drinking coffee, listening to Jack Johnson and feeling the warmth of spring through my open front door. I am getting that tingle I get when I’m about to wax poetic, or possibly have a deuce building. I never know until the moment hits.
That said. I’m going to cop out and leave a poem for my post today. Yes, I’m lazy and tired, but really, I just feel like doing it. I ate a lot of beans yesterday.
Taste the sea when you lay against me
And not the sweat of a long day’s work-
For I always said we would go there
Every time you brought it up,
But the ocean does not pay the bills,
And the waves of passing traffic
Outside our bedroom window
May never be surfed or waded through,
But there is sand and sunshine
In the park around the swings.
If we were to go there in the morning
With a basket of food and wine
I could put a towel down for you
To sun yourself while you read
Whatever it is women read on beaches
While the men try not to look
At so much exposed flesh,
Instead wandering out to pee in the sea
And pretend that sharks are coming
To keep their erections down,
But I’ll have no water to hide in
And I will come up with other ways
To watch your skin as it gathers sun.
For example, I may get on the swing
Since it would just be hanging there,
And while watching your breasts
I might say, “Push me. Push me.”
-W. Honea, 2005