“Landslide” in the Morning

Annette, a successful self-employed graphic designer

with a great body and a gorgeous face, was a tireless

worker but she still found time to be a loving wife.

And I loved the way she sounded when she sang

“Landslide” in the morning, just like Stevie Nicks.

But one of her beautiful green eyes sometimes—not

always but sometimes—wandered. It was a lazy eye,

sometimes, a flaw I couldn't overlook, so I left her.

Dawn, a hotel manager with a decent enough face,

worked long hours to earn her salary, and, most

importantly, her blue eyes were perfectly straight.

But she wore a few extra pounds in her stomach and

in the rear, and in the morning her hair was frizzy,

flaws I couldn't live with, so I left Dawn, wife two.

Wendy, a part-time waitress, was intelligent and thin

with perfectly straight brown eyes and she rolled out

of bed in the morning with perfectly straight blond hair.

But she had a mole the size of a pencil eraser above her

tailbone and she often missed work, sick from hangover,

and who would stay with her? I left Wendy, wife three.

Neva, who lived off the child support her four kids' four

dads paid, was bony and her eyes and hair were straight

and she had no moles I could see and she didn't drink.

But she cussed in front of her unruly kids and left them

alone so she could spend the child support money their

dads sent on clothes for herself while the kids wore rags.

I rehearsed my “I'm leaving” speech for Neva, wife four,

and I would have given my soul to hear Annette sound

the way she did when she sang “Landslide” in the morning,

Just like Stevie Nicks.