Smoked Gouda

There's miles ahead
moving under a wispy sky 
of tangerine and cream.

Wanting to rush, get home

make the sauce with bits 

of green pepper and mushroom.

It's commonly eighty nowadays 

on the speedometer

watching the gas gauge 

plummet

but too eager to melt 

smoked Gouda

over the garlic bread

a touch I left out

to surprise 

to make him smile

because it's his favorite.

I sent a text at 5:08

while cruising Future 86;

now, home, 7:00
no text back.
Wishing to matter more
he woke from the day's
exhaustion, called
and hurried right over.
The smoked Gouda
was not purchased in vain.