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.
