Tidbits 20031976

My cat doesn’t care about death

My cat doesn’t care about death

or the dying or the dead

or the people that have left

My cat doesn’t care about death

 

My cat doesn’t care about outlaws

or vigilantes

or poets or romantics or criminals

or singers or rappers or artists

My cat doesn’t care about death

 

My cat doesn’t care about

the living living in hell

burning their fingers with ash-ridden smokes

going up their nostrils and down their throats

or the cancer patients lying awake on their death beds

My cat doesn’t care about death

 

My cat doesn’t care about the heartbroken

or the hurt

or the people lighting candles for the deceased

and gripping onto their last pictures

while grappling with the question of existence and fate

My cat doesn’t care about death

 

And I watch her play and frolic in the sun

outside on my porch

as I sit and weep the souls of the lost

the good ones are always the first to go

the good ones are always the first to go

 

And the people

both close and strangers

the people ask me

why are the good ones always the first

to go

and I stare at them with no answer

and only this to say:

the good ones always go first

that’s why

I’m still here

 

But my cat’s still here as well

and I’d like to imagine

that in another life

possibly a fair life

it was a human being too

and one of the good ones

maybe even one of the best this race’s ever produced

so why is it still here?

 

It doesn’t

really matter

because I’m here

yearning the souls of the lost and dear

and my cat

well

my cat doesn’t care about death.