making holiday plans

i don't know about

visiting Europe for the holidays,

the wife

says,

as she brushes her hair,

counting each stroke.

eighty-five,

eighty-six, eighty-seven.

i'm still in bed

with our dog, Ralph.

his head

is on my chest.

i think he needs to go out.

why not, honey bun,

i ask her.

well, i saw on tv 

the rioters.

they've gone mad over there

with the

looting, fires, chaos.

ninety-two, ninety-three,

ninety-four.

i think we should go, i tell

her, before

it's gone for good.

is the Louve,

still there? the Eiffel Tower?

we can buy some helmets

and those

military vests.

some Doc Martin boots.

ninety-seven, ninety-eight,

ninety-nine,

one hundred.

she sets the brush down.

what about Miami, she says.

South Beach for

Christmas?

sure, why not, i think i still

have my red

speedo from the last time

we went.