The tea-green palace.
I’d like to walk up Twin Peaks
but instead am mesmerized by Momo,
his head tipping back and forth
in lush mid-morning sunshine.
The cat decides to choose an ink.
Once chosen, slathered upon each paw,
she slips through a donut hole.
Momo’s head.
Momo’s head.
The raindrop triptych moves an inch toward the ceiling
and another inch toward the powdery carpet,
thus extending its sovereignty.
Try winter.
Sushi,
two new red shirts,
and tree identification booklet.
She bent my finger back.
Waiting for the perfect time
at The Luggage Store Gallery, 6th & Market.
