*Move it*, Monday—

I barely caught five hours without Coal’s sleepy snore,
  without his grumbling,
              adjusting,
          curling close.

And you, back from Charlotte,
    smiling through another platelet session,
    giving again, quietly,
    making someone else's Monday—

    a little less Monday-ish.

Me?
   At the office, keyboard warrior mode,
   my mind already half-focused on later—

   an unplanned date night (the best kind).

Tonight, Ohtani takes the mound
         for the Dodgers—
         his first start since August 2023,
         history and hope wrapped into each pitch,
         magic humming beneath summer's noise in L.A.,

         and me, trying to explain again why
         baseball is more poetry than sport.

We'll catch OKC and Indiana,
      Game Five—series knotted at two,
      each basket feeling heavier,
      every shot reshaping finals fate,

      our bets and banter blending
      into the gentle hum of Irby’s.

Just *move*, clock hands,
     push past the meetings,
     through the emails,
     just beyond the taillight labyrinth—
     speed up to that first sip at Irby’s,
     and the relief of your entrance,
     my hand instinctively reaching out for yours,

     eyes locking in soft victory—
     finally, Monday is behind us.

Move it, Monday—
     we've got places to be,
     games to see,
     stories to trade,
     hugs and kisses overdue,
     and just one thing left—

The part where we enjoy it.

Together.