I feel like a cat right now.
Lounging around the house without a care.
They like to sit under cars when it’s hot
I like to sit under a roof of a house.
I don’t have a tail I can flicker from side to side –
So I just lay on my back and stare at the ceiling, at the spinning fan.
Maybe I’ll glance over at the titles of the books that line the walls.
I hear birds chirping outside – but I’m too lazy to go out and catch them.
I’m not a cat, I’m just lazy and I’m trying to find a metaphor.
It’s not really working.
So I’m ending this poem.