Late afternoon, dingy
neighborhood dollar store
picking up essentials:
cleaning supplies, deodorant
AA batteries
Wile E. Coyote
dynamite-sized sidewalk chalk
in handy plastic bucket
at checkout,
mentally rough-drafting
scratchy paeans to my wife
colorful notes she will see
as she departs each day
down front steps, sidewalk
dusty romance
specific, uplifting,
sometimes sexy sendoffs
I, Browning
of pitted concrete
Curious of my
incongruous purchases
smiling, small-talk-making
cashier queries;
Grandkids coming?
Hop-scotch?
Teacher who still
has chalkboards?
My reply leaves her
looking quizzical, in doubt
pondering more pedestrian
relationship techniques
lacking any reference
skeptical of sidewalk stanzas
dusty, smudgy, romance
morning devotionals
for long-together lovers
“Not an old school”
I intone
“just ‘old school’”
Collecting purchases,
change, eyebrow-cocking,
appreciative, knowing nod
at my prowess for still knowing
how to make a woman swoon
tomorow, my wife as well
– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd
Ponderable polemics, poetic 