Buncha Bunk

As this house boat rocks I find myself
rolling into my wife’s back.
I realized out of all the bedrooms
we don’t have a bunk bed.
Our little dorm could use one.
I mean, it’s not fair that all those
kids get to have one!

What if…?

Would Barbara and I fight
for who gets the top?
Would we need a rail?
I think we wouldn’t get much sleep.
We would giggle at our flatuations.
The chit-chat of what happened that day would echo.
The staring at the ceiling thinking out loud would exhale.
We would cup our hands against the light
to paste animals on the wall.
We would laugh at the upside down
face from the top bunk singing
the national anthem.
Every time we would hear foot steps
we would quickly lay at attention
with the covers up to our chin.
We would tapity tap fake Morse code on the
bottom of the top bunk.
We would hear little Emily say though the wall,
“Go to sleep!”
We would drape a blanket, like a waterfall,
and lay together on the bottom
with flashlights shooting up
on our scariest faces.
We would hold hands until the dangling
arm develops sleep tingles.
We would ask those “night” questions
and sometimes find answers.
We would lay and wonder who will nod off first.