Here I am waiting on you again.
Dirty little secret, I love it
But I hate how you sleep until the sun is ripe in the sky,
Lumber down the stairs and ask for food,
Then expect me to play wife.
I hate that you never pick a dish up to wash, nor scrub the tub
and that I’m still waiting to go driving around the town,
Stop in one of our favorite restaurants
and talk about only things you can get,
Run back home and entangle legs,
Until tomorrow when I see you lumbering down the stairs again.