By R. Gerry Fabian
3:45 am and I am finally home.
Four trailer loads and a bonus
leave me flush for a while.
I am on Red Bull overcharge
and three steps beyond hungry.
The hall light is off. Odd.
I call your name.
At this hour of the morning,
I recognize my error immediately
and tip-toe to the kitchen.
Opening the fridge, I take out
the egg carton with three eggs.
I check the bread for possible toast.
Each slice is green with mold.
Grabbing a non-stick pan
I break the eggs and scramble them.
There’s beer in the fridge.
I open it hoping to dull the Red Bull.
Sliding the eggs onto a plate
I take a small swallow of beer
and begins to eat the eggs.
The carton is on the table
and the expiration date
confirms the obvious.
R. Gerry Fabian is a published writer and poet from Doylestown, PA. He has published seven books of poetry: Parallels, Coming Out Of The Atlantic, Electronic Forecasts, Wildflower Women, Pilfered Circadian Rhythm, Hidden Danger, including his poetry baseball book, Ball On The Mound. Web Page | X | Instagram | LinkedIn | Facebook | BlueSky