The Five Year Plan

I’m in the full church
For Cathy’s wedding.
Groom’s side, third row, aisle seat.

She walks past me
With the poise of a princess
Looking every inch the swimsuit model
She was until she became pregnant.
And whether that was an accident
Only one person will ever really know.

But I’m pretty sure how I’d place my bet.

Eyes that once spoke of love,
Lips that once loved
Now speak a silent warning
So clear my testicles contract:

“Don’t say anything.
Don’t mess up my day.
Why are you even here?”

The maid of honor
Told me last week
She said to Cathy,
“Do you love him?”
And Cathy replied, “I don’t know.
Sometimes maybe. It doesn’t really matter.”

Ten’ll get you twenty
I have her on the rebound
Within five years.
You just have to wait
For things to come around.

But Oh-Sweet-Jesus
Not for a shovel full of diamonds
Would I even try to survive
What they’re going to put each other through
In those five years.
It would make hell seem like
A week in Maui.

So: man up—
Do you want the bet or not?

~

Here’s where to find Andrew Hubbard