I Do It Again

I Do It Again

The toe pads of my cat are pink as a fairy gown,
And sometimes I tug on the tufts of white hair
That emerge between each, and he looks at me
Thinking thoughts in English, lacking the vocal
Ability of course, but the message could not be
Clearer, Must you do that?
I do it again.
A twitch. Narrowed lids.
No, really. I can be just as comfortable over there.
I do it again.
Over on the couch as here on the bed with you.
I do it again.
A swat. And something like a sneeze.

Now he gets up and I anticipate the rejection.
The disdain.
Pretends he is stretching, but I know better.
He is leaving. Fake yawns. Oh, that is so fake.
There are other places, in this place, for him.
I hug my pillow, and we both sleep, apart.

Amazing though, how the clatter of food in the dish
Makes his morning. And the splatter of filtered
Water grants me that plaintive meow, Oh, I am
So dependent on you, Father.
I would tell you, but I am too busy eating.
Chewing.

And I bend to the very last moments
In my own home, cleaning my cat’s bathroom.
I do it again and again.

Knows nothing about give and take, my cat.
Only take. He is all about taking.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008