Nine Lives of Love

Sometimes in poetry I just like to illustrate character quirks, such as learning of intimacy at a young age.


Nine Lives of Love
         (for Max Taylor)

　
When I was a child I had a cat,
I know it seems nothing special in that,
But it was

Summer nights, window open, lying in bed
Baby rabbits screaming outside in dread,
That was him

Winter nights he stayed in, slept with me too,
Nothing gay in sleeping with a same sex cat,
Taught me love,

I was too young to know about same sex,
Cats, boys, girls, I was only six or so,
I learned love,

Scratches on head, shoulder blade rub, loose fur,
Snuggle and curl up, two spoons, me bigger,
Fell asleep

Come morning, he would pace upon the floor.
Wanted to get out, likely had to pee.
So did I

Zoe was a redhead, met in college,
Drank a few beers, back then it was eighteen,
Made a friend

Went back to my apartment, took showers,
Then we were alone, me and Zoe,
Naked alone

Caressed her hair, nape neck massage, kissed her
Went to bed, doggied up, spooned, she shorter,
Fell asleep

Come morning she was sitting with a smoke,
Maybe she was pissed but didn’t speak much,
Let her out

Cat taught me love but couldn’t teach me sex