sometimes i want to go to sleep and wake up back home
on any old thursday
in the middle of the summer
turn on the radio
and listen for the weather;
because i am supposed
to play ball
in the afternoon
but the morning is humid
and smells like thunder.
in other news, the cat keeps talking to me tonight. run into the room. slide across the floor. let out his trademark "meeeeeeeewwwwwww" with a low, irritated glance. run out of the room. find small objects and put them in my shoes. just my shoes. nobody elses. i mew back, and he runs over to me, nuzzles my arm, and purrs like a race car. i love him for it. sir lancelot buddy, future king of the critters.
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