The oak tree down the block,
diseased and old,
sent the cat,
diseased and old,
on his way.
The tree called me down the street
to take a strip of its bark
back into the house,
so the spell of diseased and old
could be broken.
And then like that,
in a matter of weeks,
the cat whom I had
lived with and loved for
seventeen years
passed away.
Then one day,
eleven days after the cat had died,
the oak tree conveyed unto me
on an afternoon walk;
that those seventeen years
I’d spent living and loving the cat
had been given back to me,
that time doesn’t always work
the way humans think it does.
Tag: time
The snow will be melting soon.
Then it will be gone.
You and I will be different
after the snow is gone.
And we will not have walked upon
the snow together,
hand in hand
after the snow is gone.
It was 2 weeks ago
that I bought this jumbo bag of corn chips.
And in that time…
I’ve cried about 7 times,
most of them gently.
Once, sitting on my back porch,
looking into the woods,
still feeling an unending love for my cat Pinky
who passed away 5 years ago.
I had sex with 2 women and 1 man in that time.
Got drunk 6 times.
Wrote 5 poems and 2 songs and edited some fiction.
Started a new job that is mentally draining.
Threw a birthday party for Pinky’s brother, Blue.
Made 2 new good friends.
Saw a couple old friends I hadn’t seen since
the pandemic started.
Had crème brûlée for breakfast twice.
Ate pickles and olives for dinner once.
Had an upsetting conversation with my mother.
Continued falling in love with a woman
I’ve lusted, loved, and respected for 22 years.
And so I sit here on a Saturday morning
with a beer
and a near empty jumbo bag of corn chips
impressed these chips have lasted me this long
and seen me through so much.