June 21st, 2015

Picking ticks from the belly of a cat
Dangling blueberries, juicy and fat
Far in the distance, a rumbling thunder
Had some music to what lies under
There's nervous silence, thick like butter
The popping of ticks thrown in the fire

And then comes the phone call he's been waiting for
I can hear him talking through his bedroom door
And I hope for the best
But prepare for the worst
He looks relieved when he returns
Oh, how brutal it can be to wait
The cat brushes against his leg