i'm like a cat,
i sit on the windowsill
drink and smoke
and do the least
practicality of my
existence other than
sleeping, autistic darting
of the eye to fake telekinetic
coercions of unmovable things,
but i also do that to
imitate the mating calls
of foxes in the night,
in description:
like a dry laugh, like a non-phlegmatic
laugh, very coarse if taste buds are
in question bitter, like a solitary H
without an identifiable vowel to
make a couplet that doesn't desire
a rhyme.