I can’t predict rain.
Arrives every so often
as I lay calm.
Maybe, biweekly
or every other month.

Just a slice
of caramel cheesecake
on crunchy graham crackers
thin, like her fingers
which could really use some Coppertone.

Ostensibly, I’m a pacifist
who’d like my own show,
but I know it’s a dream
like all the others
stitched in jeans she’s worn.

Cat No. 45 of the 500 Cats Project

3 thoughts on “forecasting

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