Cloudy Day at Hooters

I finger the ring on my finger

 Badly in need of polish,

 I consider different things to say

 That are original, charming and memorable,

 While I eat my spicy chicken breast sandwich,

 But only come up with,

 "What's your favorite Christmas present?"

 It works, well enough anyway;

 She glances at her friend,

 They smile,

 She says Ashton Kutcher, or a digital camera.

 I remember when desire was so simple.

She asks me about mine, and I mumble Nintendo,

Which it was, and probably still is.

But to go to Christmas future,

Reach into my deepest desires;

I would feel her lust directed at me,

I would see her whisper in my wife's ear one day,

When we both come to Hooter's for some oysters,

That she's creaming just thinking about taking us home.