Forgotten

The trees are receding into night, blurring together as shadowy masses as the sky dims. A lot of my memories are like that now. Sometimes I have a hard time telling one from another. In a while it will be hard to tell that the trees are trees, and not just darkness. I suppose memories will get like that, too. Right now it's hard to recall what happened this afternoon, probably because none of it was significant. There were the stores, where I bought very little, and the roads between the stores, which were much the same as always. It's all pretty vague.

Right now all I can think is that I want something cold to drink. Later, I believe English people will murder one another on television. Other than that I might as well still be sleeping. Portia would disagree, but only because if I were still sleeping she would not yet have been fed, and she doesn't like not to be fed. She herself sleeps most of the time. I wonder if I could arrange to be the cat for a change and her the human, if my life would really change all that much. Well, I wouldn't get any beer, and that would be a big change, but other than that.

It's almost time to start making a dent in this week's food supply. Maybe I'll remember that. Maybe I won't. First, that cold drink. It's still hot in here.


( Sunday Verse )