spice it up a little

i was reading the paper
the other day, drinking
a cold beer with
the ball game on when
my wife came into the room.
hey, she said, what do
you think of this outfit.
i lowered the paper, took
a look and said, i didn't
know clam digger pants
came back in style.
tan, nice, they go good
with that pink blouse
and those ankle breaker
shoes your wearing, what
is that, some sort of woven
wheat they hold them
together with? they're
capri pants for your
information. oh, okay.
where you going in that
outfit, church? i went
back to the paper. nordstroms,
she says, for lunch with
the girls. oh yeah. since
when did they start serving
food? pick me up a ham
and swiss, while you're over
there. she was still standing
there, staring at me.
what? i said. what?
in the old days you'd
be up out of that chair
when i had on a outfit
like this and trying to
wrestle me upstairs. i've
been working out, she
says and spins around
to give me a rear view.
hmmm. nice, tight. i'm
loving those clam diggers,
i tell her. capris, she says.
ummm, honey, move a little
to the left, there's two
men on and it's the bottom
of the ninth. you're sort
of blocking the screen.
you know, we haven't fooled
around in months, she says
to me. i take a swig
of beer. here we go,
i say to myself. what's up
with that, she says,
aren't you interested in
me anymore. i am, i tell
her, i am, i'm just waiting
for you to give me
the green light. and
since when did you ever need
the green light. you've
run so many red lights you
should be in traffic school.
maybe we should go see
a therapist, see what our
problem is, she says.
hey, we're just tired.
the kids, our jobs, the lawn.
the kids are in college dear
and we have a lawn service.
oh right. well, i don't know,
we're just in a lull.
maybe we should mix it up
or something. hey, do we
have any more chips. someone
forgot to put the clip
back on this bag, they're
stale as hell. are
you listening to me. we
have no sex life. none,
zip. zero. it's not right.
my friend ellen said that it's
a sign you might be having
an affair. pffft. ellen.
what does she know. where'd
she get that, from that
know it all oprah? that oprah
is getting on my last nerve.
you don't care about me
anymore do you? she says,
but avoiding tears because
she just put on all this
makeup to go out with the girls.
okay, okay, i tell her. maybe
we could spice things up
a little, rent a dirty movie
or something. but with a story,
no close ups or anything.
no, she says. i hate that stuff.
okay, okay. go pick up an
outfit at victoria
secrets, or somewhere. maybe
we could do some role
playing. we could play
good cop bad cop, i tell her.
what, she says. what? or i could be
the milkman and you could
be the woman at home waiting
for the milk and i could
make a delivery and you'd
answer the door in your
underwear or something, or,
or, i could be a fireman
coming to rescue you, but
it's only the smoke alarm,
and you are helpless, like
a little kitten up a tree.
stop, she says, you know what,
just forget it. i have to go,
the girls are waiting. hey,
i tried, i tell her.
tell the dude making sandwiches
at nordstroms to go easy on
the mayo. i'm working
out too you know. and
throw some peppers on
there too, spice it up
a little.