Insomnia

Every single night,
Between the dusk and dawn.
I wake up with a fright,
To find my lover gone.

Is she visiting the bathroom?
Did she go to poop or pee?
If so, she’ll be back soon.
Flushed with victory.

Could she not fall asleep?
Did she move to the recliner?
Did she find another cabin?
Am I on an ocean liner?

Did she go to walk the dog?
I heard no toenails on the floor.
Did she leave for someone else?
Does she not love me anymore?

Did she flee to see her sister?
Did I do something wrong?
That’s probably not the answer,
She wasn’t gone that long.

Did she need a midnight snack?
Perhaps she’s feeling yucky.
Was she murdered in her sleep?
I would never be that lucky.

Sixty

Raise a glass, shed a tear, I’m getting old, the end is near.

Happy Birthday to me.
I’ll just watch some TV.
We’re all still on lockdown.
Happy Birthday to me.

I planned a little birthday trip,
It would’ve been quite fun.
Now, we’re quarantined at home,
The trip has been undone.

Sixty will be a Facetime birthday.
“It’s fun!”, my dear wife said.
I’ll see my brother’s smiling face,
And the top of my Mom’s head.

Happy Birthday to me.
I loathe Twenty-Twenty.
I’m going stir-crazy,
Happy Birthday to me.

Roadtrip

Are we there yet?


I just so love being in the car.
Houston now seems very far.
We’ve been there other times before.
Each time it’s south-er even more.
I really wish you’d let me drive.
I can’t deal with all this right-lane jive.
My eyelids are about to drop.
I think I need a Buc-ee’s stop.
The GPS says two hours to go.
That I didn’t need to know.

Are we there yet?

Adventure Escaped

We are going to get an RV.
It is time to hit the open road.
We will go wherever we wanted.
We will be Grandparent Ninjas,
Swooping in to visit and vanishing.

Off to discover America on the open road.
We would have no schedule to meet.
Sleep wherever we wanted to sleep.
Stay as long as we liked.
Vanish with the wind.

We learned some of the lingo.
I signed up for all the emails.
We watched all the RV programs.
We yelled at all the families
Who obviously picked the wrong unit.

I started a blog because I was serious.
I began mapping our planned journeys.
We would retrace some of the long roads
We had previously traveled by car.
This would be so much less stressful.

Finally we started looking at RVs.
I wanted a Class A like Willie’s bus,
Just with less smoke.
My wife wanted a travel trailer.
She didn’t want to be a bus driver.

Some RVs seemed a wee bit small,
Especially for larger people.
Then, my wife reclined on an RV bed,
With her relatively bad back.
She said, “Where will you sleep?”

We both considered driving with forty feet
Of metal following behind on every turn.
We’d both backed into things in cars.
I wondered how to determine bridge ratings
Before we plunged into a raging river.

Soon we realized it was convenient to
Sleep wherever you wanted to sleep.
Stay as long as you liked.
Have coffee and breakfast in the morning.

We will save a lot of money not getting a RV.
This savings will help cushion the sadness.
Much of the savings will end up going to
Our friends at Hampton Inns worldwide.
We’d drive beds with us but they have them already.

Since we don’t have to drive our beds around,
The rest of the RV savings fund goes to
Our friends at Southwest Airlines.
They go pretty much where we would have driven,
And they actually go faster than my wife.

I’m sad we are not getting an RV.
On the other hand, I can afford the groceries
My wife can fit inside a car, even a rental.
I’m not sure how much of Carfagna’s
She could have fit inside a toy hauler.

Parenthood

Can someone hold my child?
I am so completely enraged,
I probably should not
Be near him currently.

There is a wide, black trail of
Instant Coffee, running from
My kitchen to the bedroom.
Across my new white carpet.

My husband said he calls it,
“The Trail of Tears.”
Someone should hold him, too.
In case this becomes a rampage.

Deep breaths.
Deep, cleansing breaths.
Maybe a glass of Chardonnay.
It’s better now. Somewhat.

It’s just a very messy line.
It will all come out in the wash.
It’s not really grounds for murder.
It’s not even grounds for divorce.

Grounds.
He he he he.
I crack me up.
I better start cleaning.

My Beloved, the Non-Weeble

Editor’s Note: Weebles wobble, but they don’t fall down. So, my wife is not a Weeble. Some people are just accident-prone. I know one of them. She married me. Oy vey. This is in her voice, since that’s the only way it makes sense. You just have to imagine the cries of anguish at the end of each stanza. 

I think I’ll have a glass of tea.
Ouch! I think I sprained my knee.

I was writing out my shopping list,
I stopped because I sprained my wrist.

The list said, “Ribs. At least a rack.”
Wow. I think that I just wrenched my back.

I filed the list in my to-do folder,
But now I may have popped my shoulder.

I turned on the TV and saw Bethenny Frankel,
Then dropped the remote and broke my ankle.

It’s Spring, we should be on a ship,
It’s just I may have strained my hip.

I reached to remove a piece of fluff,
And I think I tore my rotator cuff.

I know it’s time to feed the pup,
It’s just I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.

My husband said, “Hey, let’s get frisky!”
I said, “Oh, my God! That’s much too risky!”

My husband thinks he’s such a clown,
I’d hit him, but I’ve fallen down.

Again.

Grandparents

A grandmother wants control of her title.
Choosing what she is called seems vital.
Some will never be “Grams” or “Granny.”
They want to be called “MomPlus” or “Sammy.”

Grandfathers don’t really seem to care.
Since we get called random terms here and there.
I have been “Grandpa”, “Papa”, “Grampy”, so to speak.
All of those were just in the past week.

Next time, I’ll have another name.
I will probably have myself to blame.
I said my name was King Frank-Bob.
We’ll see if that’s accepted by the mob.

I answer to the term my grandkids choose,
Either good or bad, win or lose.
Call me a saint or call me a sinner.
Just don’t call Grandpa late for dinner.

A Child of Many

I’m a child of the Sixties,
I can sing any Beatles song.
Peace and love,
Sex and Drugs,
I’ll party all night long.

I’m a child of Catholic schools,
I know a lot of prayers.
Glory Be,
Our Father,
He watches over us everywhere.

I’m (mostly) a child of Texas,
I got here when I was two.
Whataburger,
Ranching,
A State with its own worldview.

I’m one of the last Baby Boomers,
I was taught right from wrong.
Princess phones,
Playing outside,
In college, I even saw a bong.

I’m a child of many,
My folks, the highest percentile.
Selective amnesia,
An occasional drink,
And my shrink on speed-dial.