Winter has arrived full-bore here in northern Indiana. All of a sudden, I’m paying attention to our snow blower, which for the past few months has languished largely ignored behind the car. Do inanimate objects get jealous? I wrote this little piece for the folks over at Poetic Bloomings…
Snow blower’s lament
So he comes home last night
and he’s all excited about something
and he bursts into my room with a
bottle and in his Dale Jr jacket.
Next thing I know he’s all over me
trying to warm me up, and I’m like,
Seriously? But OK I let him cause
it’s been a while and I like the attention.
And then just when I’ve finally given in
and I’m kind of humming nicely
he’s like WHEN DID YOU START SMOKING?
And I’m like is this a joke? Since like forever,
only you never even noticed, you dipstick,
‘cause you never even ask me how I am
except when you need something
and I have to watch you going out
with that plush-assed bit** all the time
with her fancy name and showroom perfume.
And he just looks at me like what are you talking about?
And right then I broke down. Just broke down.
And he just starts yelling at me.
And I’m like, I don’t even care anymore.
You’re just a selfish user,
and I have had it with this relationship.
And he didn’t have the first idea what to do.
It was kind of funny, actually, his mouth
flapping open and shut like a broken intake valve.
There he was, just a silly little brat having a tantrum
in his NASCAR shades, with a shovel in his hand
and three feet of snow all the way down the driveway.
Well serves him right – and you can bet
SHE didn’t lift a finger to help him.