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Bedding Down In the Colding

For the first time 
since the end of Summer, 
Mr. Nobody wears his socks to bed, 
a sad admission that 
things were going to get worse. 
Can't count on the 
warmth of mother nature's breast 
to keep his mammalian nature intact. 
When he wears his socks 
and he pulls the thin duvet and the 
extra purple woven Dacron blanket 
up over himself he feels 
warm enough to sleep. 


The cat, Missy, who sleeps on his bed 
wants to go out. This is Mr. Nobody's worse fear, 
like a fear of urination
a fear that keeps him from resting. 
Mr. Nobody throws off the blankets, rises, 
swings his legs over the side of the bed 
and rests his feet on the cold wood laminate floor. 
He shuffles to the door 
Missy follows. 
Opening the back door, he feels 
the dread of the betrayal. 
Missy scoots out. 


Now, before he can sleep, Mr. Nobody has to remember 
to find her and let her in again, realizing now that 
William, the male cat had been let out earlier. 
He will have to recover them both.
Mr. Nobody doesn’t know why he cares so much 
about the discomforts of the cats. 
He doesn't know if they suffer the terrors 
of the failing pact with nature as much as he, 
probably they do not. 


Mr. Nobody returns to bed, pulls the cover-sandwich package 
over his legs then over his chest. He rests, 
planning to rise in an hour to go out and find the cats. 
Mr. Nobody is certain that when he calls the cats 
after an obligatory time
they will agree to follow him, 
almost as if they know what's 
good for them.

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