ode to jimmy

(alternate title: do i own the cat or does he own me?)

you--a streak of striped ginger fur
tearing through the rooms with soft-pawed gallop,
hiding beneath beds and tables,
pouncing forth to sneak a lick from my yogurt cup
or flash a claw across my badly-shredded couch.

you meow and purr and chirp,
perhaps relating to me the state of your litterbox
and how you demand a more thorough cleaning,
or how you find the new flavor of cat food
a bit lacking in salmon.

maybe you are trying to tell me about
the scenes outside the window--
that strange world beyond the thick pane of glass--
the screeching and yelling, horns blaring, thunder rolling,
a world of shifting shapes and patches of light.

but mostly you attack specks of dust
with the agility and prowess of your feral relatives,
tapping into some primordial instinct to hunt--
and survive--
before you yawn and stretch,
and lay down, all limbs akimbo,
to worship the sun with your tummy up,
dreaming of chasing spots of light
that bounce and float
in endless space.


the shanghai art fair opens to the public today! our gallery is participating for the first time, more info here. wish us luck!


cups of coffee: 1, with yummy soy milk

mood: ready to go