If I could text you, I'd say,
meow meow, meow.
If your fuzzy feet could
tap tap on a touchscreen
would you say,
meow, meow meow?
I'd say
I love you, fuzzy beep.
and
I never give enough attention
to so sweet a spirit.
I'd say
I'm so down, beep, so tired,
and no one is here to lift
me up, so I think of you,
of your endless
affection,
your
simple
adoration,
your curious
choice to chose
so unworthy a person
as myself, this useless
monkey, melting ugly
middle age, and
failing one day
at a time,
and
you so
unconcerned,
still beaming yellow
photons at me,
fixed upon my
frowning
face
as
if
I
were
your polestar.
Perhaps you had no better
choice, you practical animal.
Either way,
I'd say,
I'm grateful for your mistaken
faith. Ten years, or nearly so,
I'd tap out the words,
encompassed
in the warmth
of your
fuzzy
heart,
have been
not coincidentally
the ten best years
of my life. Beep,
could I have
ten more
with
you,
I'd type with my
opposable thumbs,
I'd be happy in some
smallest part of
every day of
every one,
and
your
reply, my
emoji, my laughing cat,
would once more buoy me
up above the weight of it all
and lift my eyes, my heart.
August 13, 2024
