Don't Make Me Come Back From Vacation

(post copyright  2016, Dawn Weber)

Don't make me come back from vacation,
I don't want to! No, you can't force me,
To go back to life as I knew it,
All that stress, and pesky reality.

What's this thing you call an 'alarm clock?'
You have set it for 6 a.m.
It's clear that you have forgotten,
I prefer not to rise until ten.

You say I must go back to work now,
That I have to "bring home the big money,"
You're trying to make me start laughing,
But your joke isn't really that funny.

You tell me I'll need to wear pants,
Which are tight and scratchy and awful,
Who needs that kind of restriction?
Swimsuits are so much more comfortable.

And I'll have to get into a car,
Then drive for an hour in traffic,
For the past week it's only been bicycles,
Or walks on the beach in my bare feet.

At the office there'll be tasks to finish,
Things the boss-man will tell me to do,
But I much prefer doing quite nothing,
I bet that you feel that way, too.

Still, you're saying we can't drink at noon,
And we can't have a Mai Tai for lunch,
A beer even though it's a Tuesday,
Or a nice Bloody Mary for brunch.

At home we cannot buy fresh shrimp,
Or pick oranges right from the tree,
A world without citrus and shellfish?
That ain't no kind of life for me.

And there won't be any more napping
A time set aside just to snore,
But how can one get through the day,
Without sleeping from 2 until 4?

Now I realize I have a mortgage,
And bills which I really should pay,
But couldn't I live in a camper,
At that RV park right on the bay?

Please don't make me come back from vacation,
I promise you things will be just great,
If you go on ahead home without me,
I'll see you up there in a month or eight.