“What did you do for your Birthday?” she asks.
“NOT MUCH,” I reply.
“Oh? How come?”
“I didn’t feel much like celebrating.” I say.
“OH but WAIT. Wasn’t this the big THREEE OHHH?”
“Yes, but I don’t like this weather. I don’t want to—”
“NO NO NO. You have TO celebrate!”
“Not right now I don’t. I’ll celebrate when it’s warmer.”
“NO YOU WON’T” she interrupts.
“FINE. You’re probably right, but the idea of celebrating NOW is just TOO MUCH.”
“Something’s bothering you,” she asserts.
“What was your first hint,” I ask,
slamming down my empty glass.
We both laugh, knowing
the waitress won’t be around again
for another ten or fifteen minutes.
“Time to chew on ice,” I joke.
We both know I am not kidding,
as I begin chomping loudly.
She turns and begins talking
who still has half a drink left.
I tilt my head upward
to check on the score.
“Damn,” I sigh.
Down nearly thirty points
at halftime. I have my doubts
there will be any comeback