Charlie, we’ll go on a journey.
The one I’ve promised,
for every seared slice
of pork I’ve snatched
from your bright red bowl.

We are going to China,
whether you like it or not.
But I’ve got a feeling,
as you giggle upright,
that anywhere’s better than here.

You spy a chaparral inches away
and utter suggestions
humbly like those guilty moths
that destroyed sissy’s sweater.
Not quite soft, not quite us.

I chew on my paw and dig,
remembering all your belated birthdays
and how I tried to apologize,
falling on my back,
greetings unheard.

Wine glasses chime from within
and they draw from a hat.
Summer downpour waiting.
I will continue to hope
while you pack our bags.

Cat No. 46 of the 500 Cats Project