In 60 years I will be an old saggy woman with no freaky or funky fresh friends and for every wrinkle on my aging countenance I will capture and tame one fat cat

But not a P H A T cat because there is no animal chill enough to calm my qualms

We have decidedly given in to the pale summer sun

Its permanence mirrored on the water that we, my 57 cats, and me never touch

on the decaying porch where I lurch back and forth, my furry friends surround me as the sun dries out the moldy salvaged wood and smiling roasts my skin so that I have one more reason to give up

And get

One more cat To stay on the porch

30 feet from the porch we spend our days watching the pond longingly as the trees tangles dip into the water, refreshing them with cool, free fluidity

We stay on the porch

Satiating our “somewhere over the rainbow” dreams with pre-made iced tea, hold the ice and oh, hold the flavor.

The glass pitcher claims the shade as its refrigeration

Cats don’t like iced tea;

they purr in disapproval

As the weather has tamed their hisses but not their desperate thirst

we stay on the porch;

“Wait the water will get cooler by nightfall I promise. Look at all the other good kitties, they agree!”

We stay on the porch

As the single black cat glances up at me innocently and its paw rises gently as if to ask permission

“Stop the stairs are creaky and withered down and the trees have trouble written all over them. Its for your own good!”

We stay on the porch, minus my one black cat

As he tiptoes towards the unknown forest floor towards the water that’s calling him

“Leopold come back here right now! It’s not safe! I warned you!”

We stay on the porch, fear building as we watch

As Leo leaps into the shallow water and takes a gulp to turn on it’s back in utter satisfaction,

He floats farther and farther away under the blistering sun

I stay on the porch, while 56 other adventurers snicker and follow the leader

Until Leo realizes he cannot swim

I REACH OUT TO MY CATS, THE UNKNOWN, and MY LOST HOPES screaming

“Como agua para chocolate! I gave you safety! I gave you my life!”

Leo drowns quickly, belly up and the others scatter into life where they will form memories and not patterns

I wither back into a lone rocking chair and when

The murky brown liquid slides down my throat

I decide I’m staying on the porch

But my mind is following the pebbled forest path to the pond

And I remember an opportunity 60 years ago

 there were 57 cats for the deep incisions on a damsel’s face that chose not to breathe deep breaths and do deep things like swim in the luminescent pond where flies could flock together over her satiated dead body

Set me free, sooner than 60 years, and I won’t use 57 felines to veil my vapid fears