The Cat is Awake

The cat is awake and

unlike the sun-worshipping rooster 

who begins his ululation 

without thought of you,

the cat begins to howl with intention. 

It is an hour before your alarm clock is set to go off. 

There was dream-work to be done

whatever strange twists on reality

your subconscious was working through

taking out the trash of the previous day

rearranging what was left, Tetris-like,

to save space for tomorrow so that

you don't find yourself forgetting mid-sentence

who you have been talking to - 

all of this is interrupted

leaving piles of irrelevant details 

like bits of film strip

scattered around the editing room of your brain.

The cat does not care about any of this - 

that his howling each morning

steals a day from your life outside of the nursing home.

The cat is awake and

he wishes that you would be too. 

And so you are.

Office of Days

The shifting office is half constructed 

and half demolished when we arrive today.
The carpet is gritty 
and the fluorescent lights in the drop ceiling are aseptic. 
Yet here we are again - 
and the choices pile up like bricks.

Hello, hello - 
that's another wall over there -
or is it a doorway? 
Hard to say
until it's all done, which it never is -
but we all leave sooner or later. 

Steve is such a jerk. 
How is your family? 
I brought in some donuts! 
That witch in finance...

At the margins where we all reside
we add one brick at a time - 
or maybe today that's a window frame going in.