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Tonight

This is not a poem. I'm not a poet. I don't even try.

This is just a list of things that made up my evening.

The cool late summer night.
The sound of crickets chirping.
Cars on a nearby highway, oblivious to our happiness, hurrying to elsewhere.
The love of my life, reading from Heinlein, her voice ecstatic, her inner child returning with the remembered bliss of initial discovery.
My belly, full of amberjack and scallops and rare steak. Surf and turf cooked in butter, not a veggie in sight.
A cigar, a little dried out and weak. Gray smoke curling into the night, our cat, entranced, watching it move through the air. My lungs full, my brain light and fuzzy.
Wine, the third glass opened up full with currants and berries.
And now my desire to express this evening hampered by my abilities.
The simplicity of decadence, the decadence of simplicity.
Richness in trifles.
Full with what truly matters.

Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
rosepurr
Sep. 8th, 2008 02:44 am (UTC)
You're perfect. <3
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

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