I tried the cat
on a leash
thing. It ended
with him in his corner,
me in mine.
Which takes longer
to heal: flesh
wounds or wounded
pride? The bitten
tongue or hand
that feeds
our souls?
Too lazy to look
it up.
July will slam
through the window
screen soon enough.
1. I pity that cat.
2. Last three lines are awesome.
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Thanks. Yeah, Mr. Jackson’s leash hasn’t gotten any use in a long while.
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