Hot Tub

I was sitting in my hot tub the other night
drinking a cold root beer,
watching the stars peek in and out
between wisps of stretched cotton clouds
like some mother-baby peek-a-boo game,
trying not to giggle
as the jets spit water between my toes.

I closed my eyes and began to ponder...
"Hmm, I wonder what I'd be doing right now
if I was sitting in this hot tub without my cold
draft of sassafras?"

I sat there for a while
pondering this conundrum
when it suddenly dawned on me...
I would be doing just that,
just sitting in that hot tub,
without a root beer!

It was so simple!
So simple, in fact, that it occurred to me
that I had been soaking
in what now felt like a lukewarm bath
for a few hours too long,
and that I was now bordering on the edge
of thought
of that
of a 3 year old,
floating dangerously close
to insanity,
and what used to be a perfectly crisp
Slim Jim.