Saturday, May 15, 2004

The Canary and the Kitten
Shoosha helps me meditate. She sits in my hands, or she curls up on my lap, or she stretches out on my leg, and she purrs.

Should I forget myself and get up and go, she will wake and cry.

The gas is creeping up the mine. But the miners cannot see, and they have discarded the canary.

So I’ll just sit here with Shoosha, she’ll purr and I’ll breath. We’ll be quite happy and contented, on our little cushion, as we wait for the gas to reach up into our little cage, and kill us.

Afterthought: No, they blame the canary.


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