written on the back porch

inside -- Kent's TV
outside -- the neighbor's



the cats are listening
to birds
not the market report



noises: traffic, airplanes, newscast
I came outside to commune
with the visible



the yellow trumpets of oxalis
are tooting toward the underworld



do you want anybody to pity you, cat?
me neither!



quieter, cooler, darker
what next?



my hand likes the feel of you, too,
orange cat