today the cat creeps timidly from the house

to look at spring

I am alone, I like it that way

I sit with a book in a chair and

think about if I had a friend, what that friend would be

the cat clings to the porch rail,

shuddering at the sound of trucks going by

cars aren’t so bad, they make gentle

whooshes as they push through the sunshine

trucks rumble and roar and the cat doesn’t like that

every spring I dream of going away

but I’ve tried that before and the places I’ve tried haven’t

been any better

and now I feel old when I think of trying again

running away to a city somewhere and

finding a man who doesn’t want more than I can give

a man who likes spaghetti and poetry

and loud music

and sitting on bridges with his shoes off

but there’s no man out there like that, or

if I find one he changes as soon as I relax and start loving him

into a man with a business suit

and a regular job

“sure honey, I’d love to go to the bridge with you

today but I’ve got a 9:30 appointment”

kitty nibbles earnestly at the eavestrough

wondering what it’s made of, perhaps

wondering if it’s a potential threat

or an elaborate cat-toy

I scan the horizon for my lost dream man

not there

a woman in an open car goes by slowly

with sunglasses and a big hat

she is smiling; perhaps she’s learned to live without men?

I wave but she doesn’t see

why are you smiling? I call

but she turns back blankly

wondering if she knows me

today is not a day for smiling, I call

but it’s spring, she says

oh yeah like all’s right with the world? I say

her car sways and she straightens the wheel

shrugs her shoulders and waves to the cat

I apply footnotes to the entry in my diary

a crocus blooms in the lawn

by Cher Bibler