I lug my cat’s tower toward
the window, bedroom and living room,
back and forth, because he
revels in this kind of change, the
same world through new eyes, and I
revel in his reveling, motor engine purrs
and paw swipes against my passing arm.
Outside, the world changes once more,
right on schedule, and I marvel at the
passage of time, bike across the Pulaski
to clink beers with my friend, talking
boys and botox, and the sun
sets too soon on our afternoon,
telltale sign of a chapter well lived,
always too few pages
for the stories we love.
Fruity Pebbles after sex, this is
luxury, spoon clink smiles
and stealing just a few more minutes
from the indigo blanket of sleep
to show each other something stupid
on our phones, the days piling up
into storied stacks on the shelves.
michael king 