Carrie Green

If Rick Steves Were Your Boyfriend

Think of the picnics! By the Seine
with a baguette and a hunk of cheese,
on the Cornish coast with a pasty.
Perfect for miners and travelers,

Rick would narrate. He’d often forget
you weren’t on set, but you’d appreciate
the verbal cues. If Rick Steves were your boyfriend,
you’d never worry about subtext.

It would never rain in Scotland.
No crowds would ruin the sunset in Oia,
and the Mona Lisa would smile
just for you and Rick Steves.

If Rick Steves were your boyfriend,
you’d find it endearing the way
he bounded across drawbridges
joyfully as a Labradoodle. You’d still struggle

to pack light, and when Rick, rolling up
his quick-dry khakis, asked, Darling,
is that third pair of shoes worth slamming
the Back Door of travel shut? you’d bite your lip

and remove them, plus the negligee
you’d slipped in as a surprise.
If Rick Steves were your boyfriend,
you’d never admit that he belted out hymns

just like your father. If it sometimes
seemed like, off-duty, Rick smoked
a little too much weed, you’d sigh and recall
your first boyfriend, your college crush,

and realize you had a type.
If Rick Steves were your boyfriend,
you’d thank his ex-wife and children
for teaching him that not everyone

can keep up. He wouldn’t mind
if you chose to stay home on the couch
now and then. If you ever felt lonely,
you could always find him on the TV.