Tuesday, December 23, 2014

6173. MY WINDOW ON ALONE

MY WINDOW ON ALONE
Well, well, Mr. Cat, I bet this night is nothing
to you : gingerbread prancing catnip joys? it's
like Christmas, when the say at midnight all
the animals can talk  -  and do. Conversing 
with one another in their animal ways. I've
never seen it, no; and I've tried. While others
waited for Santas and cookies and all that, 
I waited for the animals to talk.
-
Too bad again, just another chance that's
passed me by. What's this life for anyway? 
I got nothing, ever, for all the foibles I brought.
Like at an old frontier trading-post or something
of that nature, I always wanted to get a parcel
back for that which I gave. I got not anything, 
ever, and nothing to save. Now, not even
the animals will talk. Why is that?


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