For the time being, I’m just fine with
Jennifer Martin thrusting her cat at me.
I’m not too fond of cats, and hers doesn’t
Like me. It squirms and runs off toward
The nearest dark corner, but Jennifer stays,
Legs drawn up underneath her. We talk
About things that are of no importance,
The weather, the dread duty of raking up
Leaves. She has biscuits, which we both
Dip into our coffee. Her wall clock strikes
Two. I’ve been here since eleven, and, for
The time being, I’m fine.
© Lawrence Beck 2021