I called my wife yesterday morning and invited her to lunch, which is something we’re not going to get to do very often once the bakery opens.  Problem is, our choices are limited since I only have a half hour for lunch.  So we’re talking about what to eat and she finally ends the debate by saying, “I’ll just bring food and we’ll eat in your truck.”  Fair enough, I just wanna hang out anyway.

She shows up an hour and a half later with my favorite Chinese food and we sit on the back of my truck, hanging out, talking, and eating truly excellent spicy beef and broccoli.  Best lunch I’ve had in the 2+ months I’ve been working this job.

I’ll be honest, I really don’t have much of a story here.  I could try to sex it up by adding ninjas or magical frog princes or, more realistically, by including several lines of insanely witty dialog that were never actually said, but that would just cheapen the whole thing.  My entire purpose for writing this was to point out how incredibly lucky I am and what a kick-ass wife I gots.

Some people reading this might be asking themselves, “Why, because you ate Chinese food on the back of a truck in a shitty neighborhood?”


And anyone who has – or has had – what I have knows exactly what I’m talking about.  And I feel sorry for everyone else.


Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.

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