i’d hate to blame my homework on cats
but all those other demagogues are too
preoccupied chasing fairytales– like,
don’t you see your cloud overhead?
i didn’t whisper, “thunder,” and i probably should’ve
just to get you to look up and realize your thought-bubble
has been empty for my twenty-one years.
but really, shouldn’t our very
second wasted on the stop
light be enough?
apparently not. because you
keep reseting your stop-
watch, seeing snooze.
it’s not a thermostat, it’s necessary for arousal.
but it’s okay, i’m that way too. and maybe
even worse than you. that’s why i asked him
to be my alarming.
i had this idea that we could scream thunder.
i thought maybe our friction was lighting and
any of my tears would extinguish in his eyes.
but he stopped when they d
he knew how badly i needed his heat to evaporate.
“and that’s all i want,” i told him, “to vaporize in
our clouds.” in our heavy thought-bubbles,
we could dry.
that’s why i’m sorry the ink smudged.
i tripped over my thoughts, or love,
or thinking i was in love. i got milk
all over my paper.
my damn, damn cat!
he was so thirsty, sick of licking the tears
from my cheeks. i guess i’m not surprised.
i’ve tried to suck them up myself. it’s not
all that easy,
i obviously know my mind is a terrible thing
to share. i didn’t want to test anyone, especially
when i can’t pass as sane. now i accept how it’s wrong
to pass judgement on someone who doesn’t understand
my mind is ever-greying madder.
it’s my nerves that tell me to care less and “less” is
only proving how i’ll never grow. i’m just sliding
in my own mud and tripping over everything.
so i’m sorry, i’m gonna blame this on my cat.
i’ve run out of excuses but i promise i’ll stop
running. i’d probably just trip again anyways.