Today this round ball has appeared in the middle of the
floor. They take my tree and leave me this stupid toy that’s too heavy to move
and nothing I can eat. Why? They’re driving me crazy. What would it be like on
the outside I keep thinking. To be free, like Tom. Do what I want. Go birding
and chase mice. I could escape. There is a window in the laundry room left open
sometimes I’ve been thinking about it a lot.
Amber tells me
I’m not thinking too much. I haven’t told her what’s on my mind.
“You need to move around more,” she
says. “You’re going catatonic.”
Whatever. She thinks she's a psychiatrist
and keeps giving me books to read.
They put me to sleep.
Nothing helps. I’ve to get out of here, and soon. Before the
big trip in the sky—trapped in a great silver bird - people speaking in tongues.
If I leave home I can do wherever I want, stay out all night. meow at the moon and poop wherever I want. I hate to leave Amber, but she’s still young. She would find
someone new. Maybe some kind of Swedish cat. I could leave her a note. By
the time you read this I’ll be far away. That’s how it would start. It
would end with a poem I think.
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