Poem: Why Sit Here?

 Why Sit Here?

What reason is there
to be sitting out here
in the garage, hidden
between the house
and the yard, not inside,
but not all the way out,
and now with these boxes,
just hidden away.  What
is it makes this the way
to spend time?  It is not only
the cat being dead, missing him
so when sitting outside
as I did with him.  Most would think
he would run off, try to go beyond
where I could watch, but most nights
he stayed where he knew he should.
It is not that he is gone, at least,
not that alone.  I know it is not that alone,
that there is more.  What else is it?
I am not certain yet.  It is hiding,
but will not swipe at my ankles
from beneath the bed 

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