i cannot wear black
and my arms bear marks
of transgressions past
the fridge is opened
and i am choked by the scent
of something deemed fetid
i am approached, aggressively
but every doggone dog
on the street
i approach cereal boxes
fearfully avoiding shaking
for what it may cause
but i need no hot water bottle
when the aches come to stay
for i have a pre-warmed fluffy friend
if she’s willing to obey
[i miss having cats around the house. damn this whole twenty-something renting existence.]
