Tuesday, December 20, 2011
By Jon Slone
She’ll say, could you get me a cup of cold juice.
Or maybe just turn on the light for me Dad.
And when you get up to get lights and libations,
You’ll come back to find you’ve been had!
That worn-out dimple on your favorite old couch.
That sunken-in left-side spot on the bed.
She’ll pilfer your seat in a country-fried second
And make your bottom stand up instead!
She’ll hide like the dead on the floor by the bed.
And she’ll dirty up the wall with her feet for some reason.
And when you come back from rekindling the fire.
Your tot’s got your spot and you’re freezin’.
That seat by the chimney with the red-checkered cushion.
That spot by the vent where the warmth coddles dread.
She’ll snatch up your warmy just as soon as you’ve parted.
And she won’t budge a skosh or a shred!
Jon Mack-got-my-seat-again Slone