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Black In the Box

I incorporated a stray black cat who took to sleeping in a box outside the doorway –
Black in the Box is his name.
He's been pre-approved for a $2,500 credit line, and he might just burn it all to get lit on a nip
trip. So I asked if he'd invest some of it in a social justice non-profit,
And he said, "No . . . social justice deserves credit, but it also deserves cold hard care, and I don’t have a buck left to give.
I’ve been out here too long. One morning I might be found lying in a puddle of leftover rain on the road, and only then will there be hope I’ll be taken in and not let go.
Your care is such a scarce commodity, so don’t waste it on me –
I wouldn’t want it anymore even if it was free.
Wrongs can be taken back,
but bygone time just can’t.

The time I sat in windows looking inside,
but you were too busy surviving to look back or react to faint crying –
It’s gone, and I’ve wandered away to stay, no more than a stray
There’s no sense worrying about the crooked tracks of a train that’s derailed; the ship’s sailed and isn’t coming back this way.

The only Visa I want is the one that is good in my imagination,
where my K-ration is a nine-course fancy feast with a side of sedation that you can’t participate in.”

I said, “You got me, Black in the Box; I’m sorry, and you’ve lived up to your name.
No matter how startled I get when your song stops and you emerge from the box, suddenly in front of me, I close it again and keep turning the crank in wait.”

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