Daydream

Tonight, if I was married, I would have
Called him to say I would be home late,
But that would be okay because he was, too.
When we finally got home
I would insist on eating outside
Even though it was almost dark
Simply because it was such a beautiful evening.
We would have leftovers (maybe leftover Chinese straight from the box)
Because we were too tired to make anything
And we’d take dinner out
To the porch
Or balcony
Or yard (if we had one)
And admire the azul hue of the sky
And the big, red moon peeking through the clouds.
I’d talk about the veto
And he’d probably say it was old news
And tell me something about his job I didn’t know before.
I would try to talk about something he didn’t know about
Just to feel relevant
And he would laugh.
I would be mad at first
But something about his belly-laugh
Would make me smile
And start laughing too.
After the sun was down a while
I would complain it was too cold
And he’d suggest we go inside.
I would refuse (because I’m bull-headed like that)
And would simply grab an afghan from inside
Wrap myself up in it
And move my chair closer to him
(Or scoot right next to him if we had a bench).
I would tell him about my (male) coworker
Who explained his own behavior today
By saying he was PMSing.
He would laugh again
And I would think of how cool it was
To have someone to laugh with.
He’d say he saw a firefly
I’d say it was too early for them
And we’d argue about it
Until a firefly lit on my blanket
(Because he’s right, of course – he usually is).
For ten seconds, I would wonder what it would be like
To be single again.
I would retreat to the kitchen
To scrub out my angst
And when he came in to bring the last of the dishes
I would throw suds on him
Which would break out into a full-scale water fight.
After the kitchen was clean
I’d fall asleep
Leaning on his shoulder
Watching TV
And I wouldn’t know a thing
Until he kissed my forehead
To wake me up the next morning.