The lost cat is not missing.
The lost cat is only looking and listening.
Nothing began or changed or ended.
He just crossed a street,
then another, and then another.
He does not worry, he does not hope,
he is not lost, he is not orange,
there is no reward,
no one is looking for him
and everything is provided.
"Good taste is the death of art." Truman Capote
Check in at The Cirrhosis Motel with your host, freelance literary loiterer and epicure, Dennis McBride
photo by John Hogl
No comments:
Post a Comment