The morning paper blares on about Arabs killing each other over sand without a living thing on it. I'm doing my best to care, but my mind wanders to the sand at the surf beach where I'll be dancing with my baby tonight.
Sure Obama's going to be piling on our taxes, but I'm sneaking peeks at the clock. In a few short hours, I'll be piling on the sunscreen and catching waves.
Mom is yodeling on about taking out the trash, but my thoughts are racing to Monique's designer boobs bouncing to Marley and the Wailers.
I know I'll need a job after my parents cut me off, but I've got enough for a couple of six packs today.
Wonder is all around me here and now, and my only worry about tomorrow is looking back to realize that I didn't get my fill while I could.
Copyright © 2015 Peter Shikli