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Seems like we are always having “adventures” and those will be our funniest memories.

Too Many Forty-Sevens

One has to laugh at the absurdity
of driving down country roads
in search of a farm on a mountain
named Wildcat for a church service,
preached by a woman pastor of
extraordinary wisdom and power,
the very wildcat the SBC discounts.

He was determined to get there,
the multiple identical addresses
a puzzle to be solved
as he searched with a signal
pulsing in and out, as I drove
round curves unfamiliar,
hopeful the next address
would be the one.

The clock ticked minutes
as the service progressed,
the hope I had felt
surrendered to the frustration
of too many forty-sevens
on a treasure map
we would never find.

Barbecue was not to be;
lunch at a local restaurant
brought memories of our first date.

Perhaps this was meant to be.
He remembered what I had ordered.

Poetry by Melinda K Zarate