Soft and Rotting

Autumn is a season to lose thingslike waking up on a wet morning, young and angry with a memory of warmth against your legswondering where the cat has gone since he settled in as you fell asleepand then remembering, instantly, like a highway with too many curves, that the cat died last spring.

And then, on the city bus you've rode too many timesrealizing you've spent a nickel of your life dealing withmental illness is like waking up to the dead cat next to you,in your bed and your heart, soft and rotting.