the new cat litter box
sits alone
in the corner by the door

where you last left
for good

with your shoes
and your cat
and some potatoes
I cooked for you

I am too neurotic
you said
thoughtless and rude

the perpetual thinker of the
unimportant

obsessing over how big a one cm
canker sore is and is it maybe cancer instead

and it's true
I worry constantly

for the past ten years
while we played out this game
of cat and mouse
I worried I'd never see you again

never have you here
never feed you
never laugh with you
never hear you tell me
don't worry honey
my little worry wart
you are okay
don't worry so much
I'm here...

but the truth is
you are not

you were more annoyed
than amused
more angered than empathetic
more certain than not

so you took the cat
and my dreams
and you left

at some point
I'll clean out the litter box
and crawl under my bed
to find the little stuffed white
mouse
I bought for Billie Holiday

and I'll put it away
save it somewhere
to find in a year or two
on some quiet gray Sunday
afternoon
and maybe for that moment
forget to worry about anything
at all