The Comfort Of A Third Wife Poem by David McLansky

I make concessions to my wife
No longer expert on my own life,
My children are a rowdy bunch
Why what they do I have no hunch;
But I’m glad I am in such good hands,
Her explanations I don’t understand,
My technology is obsolete,
My software now is incomplete;
And yet I trust her loving heart;
She does not wish that I depart,
And though I shake and often stumble
Although my speech is a soft mumble;
She keeps me clean, secure, on track:
Otherwise I’d have to pack,
But it’s just not carfare that I lack.