Cat
sits
stilly
the sun spot
aligns to bath him
in its honeyed afternoon light.

A long sustained shuuuuuush,
as its deep red velvet drags
across the polished floor.

But to describe it is not to hear it,
for as that simple sound rises
all others diminish, and the world
outside slowly fades into
a small illuminated window,
mechanical and well-oiled.

Or like the first distant notes of
an imaginary song.

Or maybe, she said, like a poem you love,
whose words you can understand,
but whose meaning remains obscured.

Or a slice of asian pear, whose juice, watery and faint,
eaten on a spring afternoon, suggests another day
in a lifetime far away.

One Evening, however, my Mom asks me
to stop giving him “that stuff”,
for, as she informs me, sipping her glass of wine,
she doesn’t like her Cat to be stoned.

We’ve turned into this nation of overfed clowns, riding around in
clown cars, eating clown food, watching clown shows. We’ve become a
nation of cringing, craven fuckups.”

– James Howard Kunstler, The Long Emergency

Would someone please just pass me the goddamn nachos … Please ?

Black Rock RV Park in Salome, AZ