“Hear that lonesome whipoorwill….He sounds sounds too blue to fly…”
I named my female cat after him…well…he and “Hank” Bukowski…
“don’t blame me…if sex fails sometimes…”
Hanks follow me…mine is a perfect view of infuriating mischief…and given her namesakes…
a true descendant…
“I got the Honnnnnnnky Tonk blues…”
I believe in reincarnation…and it would serve either one right to suffer a life as a small
female cat impregnated when she was barely graduated highschool…two examples of her early
fecundity and a workman’s carelessness (He left the damned door open we told him to keep shut,
but, he was pretty spent on Urethane and Marine Varnish fumes, so I didn’t sue him) remain in
this house…Mr. Jones (plays a gray guitar) and Squawk (Morris the cat in Gray…with an odd
pink nose)…such unique spirits…Lovable, clingy Jones…The indifferent, aloof Squawk…He
could pass for English aristocracy.
“Yer Daddy’s mad…he done got peeved…now you gotta change or I’m gonna leave.”
Two others were sent away with kindly strangers…one, a female, ended up with the foreman at
work…Whiskers…apparently still now as mischievous and swaggering as her mother and both
male human Hanks…The other…sweet Yoda…stark white with patches among the gray horde…
after spending a few sweet months with another coworker… attempting to have sex with the
exposed insulation in their unfinished addition…ended up roadkill…why do people that live
upon busy roads allow their animals outdoors?…I have buried enough to have learned me
lesson…others remain stupid…
“Now boys don’t start yer ramblin’ round…down that lost Highway…”
That two left and were never again seen…has scarred Mr. Jones…he will not come out from
under bed’s safety if there is stranger one in the house…
“And I as I won-der where you are…I’m so lonesome I could cry…”
THE MIND ATTIC 