Two round bulb-like eyes sit next to
the counter and await the smells of
mixed veggies with crisp sausages.
The pitter patter of the paws don't
surprise me and yet they click and
clack with a force that shakes the
apartment just three inches too far
to the right. We tetter uncomfortably
and I shift my bra to readjust accordingly.
Isn't it strange how the bulb-like eyes still stare,
it's as if he is watching for me to do something stupid.
I wait another two minutes and yell, "Stop that right this minute."
He knows that he rearranged the room again with that look. And I don't reward beggars.