The Cat's Meow Poem by Dave Agee

Obsession is the word that comes to my mind.

Maria. On My Own. So In Love With The Night Mysterious.

I was found next to God and the well dried up because I was nervous and now I'm scratching at the dirt trying to find out where it all went. I am thirsty. Let's do this! We need something in the bucket!

Fill the bucket.

Bucket. Bucket.

Bucket.

Chairs of leather (is it real?) and carpet that makes me feel high up and deafening silence and Italian lounge music and I am always thirsty but my palms are always sweaty and my fingers are always cold and where is my voice? My voice! Where is my voice? ! What is this key? ! Where are my feet? ! Who is beside me and how close are my feet to those feet and are they touching? I am echoing from my chest.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Grumble.