let's start here:
i love my husband
and i'm sure you love your wife.
but if we met in an alternate
universe, say,
and you wanted to show me your green screen,
wanted to let me try your clicker,
i would not say no.
every morning i drink my coffee with you.
you share the day's forecast about every four minutes
and even though i know what you'll say
(cold front here, chance of a late day sprinkle there)
i am a captive audience
every single time.
what is it about you, silver fox,
that makes my heat index soar?
is it your sharp suits?
your goofy jokes?
your unfailing cheeriness even before the sun is up?
whatever it is, it's working.
i am caught in your jet stream, weatherman
and there i'll stay,
content to start my weekdays with your
wholly speculative
but irresistibly delivered
seven-day forecast.
chance of a crush?
100 percent.
mbm
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