cleared from the last one.
Mom insisted I take the Jeep.
Good thing. My truck is a four-
by, but the tires lack tread.
Anyway, the Jeep has more
room for women and their
luggage. The freeway is packed.
Last-minute Santas rushing
to buy those last-minute gifts.
I finished shopping weeks ago.
Mom is always easy. T-shirt with
some pithy author-type saying.
Ditto Dad and his Beatles.
Jake, ski gloves. Leigh, perfume.
Kristina, a self-help book, not that
I expect it to do much good.
For the boys, games. And all that
barely left enough for what I got
Nikki. Not lingerie. A promise ring.
I’M NOT A JEWELRY EXPERT
But the ring caught my eye.
Small rubies (her) and sapphires (me),
set to look like a chain—the two
of us linked together. Forever.
It’s beautiful (like her). Cleaned
out my bank account, but I don’t
care. I just want to see her wear
it. How can I make that happen?
I have to wait almost twenty
minutes in the cell phone parking