It is 10:48 and the cat perches on the dresser and talks to me
Great and golden in the glooming of Saturday night, he prowls,
Eyes wild and yellow, he stalks in feral glory from the desk to the shelves, a jungle king
And then climbs the white chair and balances on books stacked precariously,
Asking me in a plaintive voice, too plaintive for a king, “Why?”
I do not know the question, cat. It is time to sleep.
Please, go to bed.