In Last Place
He hasn't said ten words to me -
for say, two hours and one long half.
I might as well be absentee
except for an off-handed laugh.
He takes football with white hot fun;
if we're behind, he catches fire!
The game is done, I think we won
and we are headed for the car.
So maybe now I'll have his voice?
Fat chance, it's only radio.
He's flipping channels, makes his choice
finding at last - the post-game show.
When in the drive the static stops,
the dog is howling at the door.
He lets her in, and rubs her chops
then play by play tells her the score.
I head for bed and say goodnight
but does he note my lonesome tone?
What’s that I hear? You guessed it right -
a message on the speaker phone.
Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2014
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