We need to talk, she said at last
Her perched up high and holding fast
Like some towering iconoclast
And I bowed to her whim
She looked me up and down and then
She threw a fist under her chin
Cocked her head and to begin
She said “Well, I’ve been thinking”
I sat and let her thoughts collect
My silence somewhat circumspect
No words for fear they would inflect
And belie my position
A million possibilities
Of personal fragilities
A lack of sensibilities
An abject lack of tact
An endless scroll of mournful songs
The devil’s list of total wrongs
Small evils gather by the throngs
Just what is it I’ve done?
Or maybe that’s the problem here
It’s not mere acts that cause my fear
For the ills I own are not so clear
It’s the fault of willed omission
Have I not noticed something change
Or left things fester like a mange
Priorities to rearrange
Oh so much left undone
And in a moment she begins
To load upon me my grave sins
Just think of all the dreadful things
Resign me to my fate
And then her lips begin to move
Her voice a breathy open louvre
Her words of silk are just as smooth
“I think we need a cat”
~ L. Alexander Carlé
Feb 14, 2011
Feb 14, 2011 at 5:25 PM UTC
We need to talk, she said at last
Her perched up high and holding fast
Like some towering iconoclast
And I bowed to her whim
She looked me up and down and then
She threw a fist under her chin
Cocked her head and to begin
She said “Well, I’ve been thinking”
I sat and let her thoughts collect
My silence somewhat circumspect
No words for fear they would inflect
And belie my position
A million possibilities
Of personal fragilities
A lack of sensibilities
An abject lack of tact
An endless scroll of mournful songs
The devil’s list of total wrongs
Small evils gather by the throngs
Just what is it I’ve done?
Or maybe that’s the problem here
It’s not mere acts that cause my fear
For the ills I own are not so clear
It’s the fault of willed omission
Have I not noticed something change
Or left things fester like a mange
Priorities to rearrange
Oh so much left undone
And in a moment she begins
To load upon me my grave sins
Just think of all the dreadful things
Resign me to my fate
And then her lips begin to move
Her voice a breathy open louvre
Her words of silk are just as smooth
“I think we need a cat”
~ L. Alexander Carlé
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