Tuesday Nights, As Usual



It’s Tuesday night and as usual

I come home and microwave two deep dish pizzas,

one for you and one for me and I put them in the microwave

just in time so that when you get home they’re steamy and hot but

not I-have-to-wait-for-five-whole-agonizing-minutes kind of hot,

your biggest pet peeve, yes patience was never your virtue

especially after a long day and

while I wait, I get the table ready;

wipe down yesterday’s grease and spills, and sort through the mail—

as usual half of them are advertisements and the rest are bills and

maybe sometimes we get a letter or two from family who would

rather send their hugs and kisses through the mail.

I take both pizzas out of their flimsy cardboard boxes

and set them in our best china plates so they look gourmet and

kind of how they serve it in the restaurants and

I put a dash of parmesan on yours because

I know that’s how you like it, and

then I unruffle my blouse and run my fingers through my hair and

wait for the last minutes of my day when I get to smile because

you’re a sight for sore eyes and because

it’s like the prelude for the best part when we pull back the sheets,

let our limbs unwind and dreams turn their gears.


2 responses to “Tuesday Nights, As Usual

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