The Dashing Youth Hockey Coach

I’ve a difficult subject that I need to broach--
Are you having an affair with our kids’ hockey coach?
I know that he’s skilled at handling the puck,
But really, my dear, I must say—what the hell?

Those 6 a.m. practices he sometimes misses--
Is he home in our bed smothering you with kisses?
While I schlep to rinks that are icy and dank,
Are you two warm and snug? C’mon now—be frank.

He’s counseled the kids since they were just Mites,
Is he what you think of when off go the lights?
They had a good record when they were in Squirts--
If he’s your ideal, believe me it hurts.

I remember you saying that he was your type
An offhand opinion that struck me as tripe.
He may have a full-head of raven-black hairs
But other than that I don’t think he compares.

I’ve seen him up close in the kids’ locker room
You’re much better off having me as your groom.
He doesn’t always shower, I’d think you would gag
To sleep with the smell of an old hockey bag.

Comments: 5

Bernard C. Jul 30, 2012, 3:58am UTC

Fair game your wife, does she go? know what I mean..does she go? Nudge, nudge wink, wink..nods as good as a wink to a blindman know what I mean, know what I mean..LOL A great reading poem of the trouble and strifes of a home life like that

Thanks for sharing and submitting to
The Surreal Circus.

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Tracy Fabre Jul 30, 2012, 2:58pm UTC

You always ask the tough questions.

Con Chapman Jul 30, 2012, 3:09pm UTC

Of course she denies everything--but isn't that the proof I needed?

Tracy Fabre Jul 30, 2012, 5:14pm UTC

Indubitably. Especially since you don't even have kids young enough to need a hockey coach. The whole thing's a scam.

Con Chapman Jul 30, 2012, 5:25pm UTC

She did let slip when they were young that a certain coach--who looked not at all like me--was her type. Took me a decade to transform the pain into a crappy poem.

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The Dashing Youth Hockey Coach

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