Existentialism in My Driveway
1 min readApr 10, 2020
Tonight we, late in bed
Were having a half and
Fragmented conversation
About the cat at our feet,
And cats, and Cats, then
I was asked if I had, maybe,
Ever tried persimmon.And we have, as she forgot the
Night we melted mascarpone,
Toasted pinenuts, and when the
Cheese had sufficiently browned,
We drizzled it with honey.We laughed at that it basically’s
A Tomato-Apple-Pear and that
Doesn’t make sense because
One of those things is not like
The other, and it doesn’t taste like
Any. But the honey.Porkchop pawed at the back door
Again. And then, when I gave
In and let him wander, he waddled
Quicker than I expected, and
Under our parked car. I reached
My arm to touch him, but he
Withdrew enough to just evade
My hand. What honey is there
Drizzled or otherwise to remind him
That these hives have other means,
And that his lives, 9 or otherwise
Are insignificant as mine. And he is
Mine, but not.Stretched across a sheet of bleached
Linen on my floor, he looks at me and
Sometimes seems to listen; but the
Truth is that I’m becoming more curious
As to his personality as well as his
Thoughts on persimmon.
