nothing but me and my delighted cat
here on the sidewalk and empty street
a pathetic drizzle dots the cement
cold and familiar under my bare feet

now a guitar pick digs into my hand
early-morning birds start to take wing
pick fur off of my button-up sweater
i couldn't sleep, so i tried to sing

angry squirrel clucks on a telephone pole
i think of the person who i refer to as "her"
remember the friends that i lose more each day
put my hand on my cat and she starts to purr

and i'm comforted by her tiny ribcage
her heat on my chest and her claws in my clothes
as the clouds clear and the sky turns to blue
her tiny meow brings me back home

the filter changes, everything's pinker
a gull regales us with his tales of the sea
my lawn's overgrown but i like it that way
i just want you to miss me, want you to miss me

"there's nothing out there," i mournfully tell
my cat as she nudges her nose to my skin
"just cigarette ash and blind cyclists
"and people to love who refuse to let you in"

my garden is made up of one lonely daisy
dancing just slightly in the messenger wind
carrying its warnings of more storms and rain
cat looks at me, her green eyes have me pinned

and i'm comforted by her tiny ribcage
her heat on my chest and her claws in my clothes
as an ant carries its fallen comrade over the grass
her tiny meow brings me back home

i imagine the lives of the drivers who pass
create a person, write a biography
my old friends hold hands and tell their new jokes
my cat puts her paw on my shivering knee

and i'm comforted by her tiny ribcage
her heat on my chest and her claws in my clothes
as my watch ticks its way to seven am
her tiny meow brings me back home

back home
back home
back home
back home