The couch is my favorite
dark blue,
attached cushions,
uncomplicated.

I lie back and watch House,
sipping Ketel.

My tabby lays directly
on my chest.
Her paws spread out,
clawing tiny
puncture holes in my shirt.

I go for a sip and her nose
sniffs my glass,
hoping for a drop.

I swear this cat is my mother.

I see Greg on the screen,
popping pills,
saving lives.

There’s a place for us all,
even the broken.