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