by Alex Gallo-Brown
I called him ‘cat’
and cat he was.
An orange tabby, you might say,
although not me—
I know nothing about cats
and am only slightly better at color.
But I called him ‘cat’
and along he came.
Our relationship was simple, transactional.
I paid for his affections
with the pellets I bought once
from Petco—only bought them
the one time, we did not know
each other long.
He was an orange cat who lived
next door, a playful, affectionate,
jocular cat who slept on top of my car
and sunbathed on my front porch.
I suppose he had a soul
as well as the body I found yesterday
when I came down the front steps.
I hope that to die for him was different
than what he had supposed, and luckier.