Feb. 18, 2013
I was trying to think of another name for myself
when the doorbell rang,
the cat answered
by running to a cabinet
a hideaway
unknown to most --
a golden few
She has a point,
we didn't want visitors,
or magazine salesmen
Once,
there was a note to someone who must've lived there
before
us,
a long lost lover was hoping for forgiveness,
but there was nothing to be done,
neither me, nor the cat knew who
Jess was, is,
could possibly be
The doorbell stopped ringing,
I never answered
she arose from the cabinet an hour later,
and I still had the same name
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