The Tomcat Murr

drifting theough leaflets

Like they might actually mean something

But they never do

The only real light you can depend on is from

Your cat

The way she keeps forgiving you

for spilling her water

and not changing the litter fast enough

I had 2 lemons in the fridge when i left

They weren’t Meyer lemons

Their scent sealed in wax

Were they only for painting?

what does the world see

What do i see that is different

An alien, avian, a bit of a high-flyer

I wonder if Hank has a little somewhere

I am my own

i miss the grass and insects especially

i wonder what is happening

with my RNA, am I a Henrietta somehow?

really we just all lie awake

alone with our free cable and clean sheets

and sushi dinners waiting for free coffee

the chance to emerge from our

prisons or escape rooms

sense at least the presence of another

somehow make these single-serving rooms

into a semblance of a home

we add our scent to the collective

the last time i lived in a hotel i had divorced

this time somehow i

inch towards Bethlehem

with cat and bell and backpack