she walks over & drapes her fatfurry stomach all over the keyboard.
i wake up & she's licking the skin off my left eyelid.
there is nothing i can do if she wants to lay there- apparently she has a monopoly on sunshine.
whenever i walk through the door, she will bring me a gift - a little lizard tail with the back feet still dangling, or a the antennae of a cokeroach.
she dominates the room. i should be thankful she doesn't shed.
its strange. when i pet her i forget & usually end up hollering upstairs for you.
thats when the silence hurts the most
& i sorta hate her purring.
doesn't she know this house isn't supposed to be so cheerful?
2 comments:
can you find me the rilke quote you mentioned? if it's half as good as how you made it out to be, i'll be happy for the rest of the day. :)
and i love your poem. as usual. i love the "voice" of this particular woman (man?)
also it reminds me of the beginning of Pilgrim at Tinker's Creek
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