as my thoughts rise to mediocrity,
or something quiet a bit less,
I think of you there
on the couch
with your cats.
One in your lap,
another by your side,
and a third, like a headrest,
saddled across the back of the couch
snoring.
I think of you there
in your popcorn crumbed
coffee stained, cat hair veiled
green terrycloth bathrobe with your
remote control in the left pocket. A lighter
smokes, and an almost empty plastic
box of tic-tacs spilling into the right
kept there just in case someone
should arrive at the door or
drop by.
So, I think of you there, love,
watching The Price Is Right.
Drew Carey with his schtick and mike,
and you there shouting- "No! No, stupid!
It's one-fifty-nine! It's one fifty-nine!"
but sadly the TV guest doesn't
hear you as the cat on sofa's back
lumbers down and pees on the floor
sniffs it, then diligently scratches
hard wood.
-dp-
2-12-14
