Wednesday, July 07, 2010

mccxv

The cat stretches, half in the kitchen,
half in the living room.   I stand firm
in the practice of comfort, keep smiling
at it, doing better at it.   Force down a

couple of pickles after an erotic hunch.
My new obsession is Bejeweled Blitz.
This, too, will pass or evolve, like
Southern cuisine or Polk Gulch.

It feels okay but I’m freezing.
He’s lunching out of his socks.