Sandra works the slots all day
Smoking cigarettes; taking free drinks
Feeding the bandits instead of her soul…
Knowing it's daylight, somewhere!
Ken throws craps; blackens the Jack
Winks sickly at the cocktail waitress
Imagines doing things way past his prime…
Knowing it's nighttime, somewhere!
Passing hours like their years
Bathed in sticky syrup distraction
Dismount stool, lurch; pin-***** pupils
They meet at the buffet; tepid, bland
As their vacation; their marriage
Mid-life shape shifting sand!

© pofacedpoetry – Billy Reynard-Bowness (2018) – All rights reserved

"The daily grind is so hard"
He whined
"Work and raising kids isn’t easy"
She opined
"Deirdre got your promotion"
He snitched
"I heard Dave got yours?"
She *******
"I hate this **** job"
He sighed
"So look for another"
She cried
"Maybe tomorrow"
He lied
"You'll do it one day"
She lied
“Stop tapping your foot”
He snapped
“Stop looking at her”
She flapped
"What's for tea?"
He assumed
"Why ask me?"
She fumed
"Can't believe it's only Monday"
He moaned
"If I hear that again..."
She intoned
"Shall we get a takeaway?"
He enlightened
"Oh, I love you"
She brightened
“Love you too”
He cooed
“Kisses to you”
She blew
"See you tonight, love"
He winked
"You will, my lover"
She pinked

Midday watercooler meeting
Frosty silence skin broken
Domestic warfare so fleeting
Morning car row forgotten
Like work-a-day sheep
At end of day meet, then
Takeaway, home, sleep
Up tomorrow, do it again

The couple who work, rest and play together...

©pofacedpoetry (2018) Billy Reynard-Bowness - All rights reserved