Perusing the news of loathsome cowboys
and cowgirls enmeshed in salacious,
lascivious, and diabolical warfare,
I try to thrust molecular jocularity
in the air hoping billions of global citizens
will airlift Nigerian girl out of harm’s way..
My older honeyed spouse going on ninety
is echoing in his tattered apricot recliner
that he’s “going down the tubes” even
though I gave him his daily heart pills
downed with java and aqua as he gasps
with his stuffed green teletubby tucked
snugly on his unsteady cardiac.
Now here’s where the frivolous tune
comes in capturing my waywardness.
I glance now seeing my mate’s breath
still with me while he’s doing his crosswords.
A new washer and dryer arriving this morning.
I will do a load and soon take him to a casino.