On the drive to work, I see turkeys on
the side of the road. They seem pissed that
I’m in their way. They were here first,
so I politely stop and let them cross.
What I do not understand is why can’t they
just wait their turn — or get out of the
way until the road is clear. They win
every time, and I’m always late for work.
But I can’t share the real reason I’m late
every morning. The turkeys are just an excuse.
I can’t talk about why my eyes are red and
swollen when I get to my desk, not on
company time.
I miss you more than the day you disappeared –
my new word for gone forever. I’m good —
just allergies. And I’ve yet to take out a turkey
on the way in.
When I get home, my routine is rock solid —
I look for you, just in case this has all
been a facade, but you’ve yet to surprise me.
Believe me, I’ve tried so hard to get you to
make an appearance.
The outcome never changes. Truth is nothing
you can ignore, or choke hold to a tie. Eventually,
you have to concede the right-of-way, accept
defeat. Even dumb turkeys know this.
