Cat on My Lap
Cat On My Lap
By Bo Crandall
I was just
about to get
out of my chair
that my coffee and I
were enjoying
when
my cat
jumped into
my lap.
As we sat there
(one of us taking a bath)
I started looking around.
If I were to get up
I could
do all of those dishes.
So many dirty dishes in my life.
I could
tend to those wet clothes in the washer.
I could
fold the clothes in the dryer.
And I must
sweep these floors
someday.
But I have a cat in my lap.
And she’s
just started
kneading me.
And if I were
to get up
I could
answer that phone
that has started ringing.
After all
I do know
who
it
is.
Ami.
Ami the dish.
Pretty,
pretty Ami.
Whose smile can
overpower
a solar eclipse.
Whose eyes can
warm you
through and through
on a frozen
February night.
Whose voice
giggles
and moans
are as comforting
as an afternoon rain
in August.
The Ami
whose speaks of
marriage
children
and
long lives
together.
The Ami
of walks
through the sands
by the sea
at sunrise
together.
The Ami
of slow dancing
on the porch
under a hot summers’ moon
together.
The Ami
of hours of
laughter and
conversation
with the gang
in
a loud tavern
crowd
together.
My Ami
of sleepy
and cozy,
warm and quiet
Sunday mornings
alone
together.
If I were to get up
I could
answer
that ringing
telephone.
But I have a cat on my lap.
And she has just
gotten
comfortable.
And if I were to get up
I could
hear
her voice.
And we
would talk
together
about
last night.
About
the Ami
and the man
that I
ran into
last night.
We could
talk about
last night
together.
We could
talk
about her anger
at me
for seeing
her
and
what
was going on,
again.
We could
talk
about me
saying nothing,
just seeing
what
was going on,
again.
We could
talk once again.
She could
plead again
for forgiveness.
She could
profess again
her love.
She could
promise again
her faithfulness.
We could
talk again.
I could
forgive her again.
I could
accept her
words,
oaths,
and tears
again.
I could
make everything
right
in her world
one more time
again.
But I have a cat in my lap.
And she has
just fallen
asleep.
And all
of the dirty dishes
in my life
will just
have to
wait.
© 2020 Carter Crandall
