To My Future Wife

To My Future Wife At Rite Aid, Minnie Ripperton was playing on the Musak and when I heard the saxaphone play the "Loving You" chorus, I knew why God brought me here searching for pubic lice killer. It seemed a cruel joke, but when I saw you I remembered that God always has a plan for us. You were looking at lotions and we locked eyes, well, maybe you were just looking over my head where my hand rested on the crab killer, but I could tell right then and there that we’d be together someday. I looked away to pocket the box (cause who in their right mind would take it up to the cashier to pay for it?) and when I turned back, you’d vanished, like some figment of my romantic imagination. But I knew you were real because I chased you and saw you drive away in a well-kept teal Geo Metro. So, I am looking for you to expedite the fate of our meeting and consequent passionate lovemaking. Don’t be shy, baby, it’ll happen sooner or later. (And by the way that crab killer took care of the parasites, and, seriously, God lured me into sitting on the toilet at the DQ, which is how I got crabs.) There are only two places that people in this town must go, and those are Dairy Queen and the dump, but in case you are lactose intolerant, I will be waiting for you during all of the dump’s hours of operations, except when I am puppy guarding the mailbox for my SSI check. You’ll find me sitting on that broken chair behind the Styrofoam peanuts disposal bin. Until then, adieu, my lover.