Graffiti Alley, Baltimore
the one nearest
the one nearest
something is up with my cat
my cat sits in quiet ponder for afternoons at a time
eyes fixed on emptiness
furry brow furrowed
with vexed thoughts
and venemous entreaties
has sworn-off personal grooming
eating, sleeping, hunting, playing
suddenly responds to the name I call him by
so that he can then transparently deny
intentionally overshoots the edge of his litter box
while laughing
before welling up
sees his own mortality
sees his own impotent lack of control
sees the randomness of this alien world
and his accidental bookmark in it
decides it’s folly in going to the vet
would rather pay a visit to the chemical shed
wants me to unlock the gun cabinet
lays all night at the foot of the bed
drinking Remy and glaring
something occurring, I think
my cat [is having an existential crisis]
and, I know
I am his convenience
moth