Appearance Is Everything

When I fall in love
With cats I often have
A look I’m seeking
A type, a brand.
So when I look at the outside
I think I’m getting a whiff of what’s
Inside. For instance, I’ve chosen
because I can help them
Or no one else would want them
(I think)
I make stuff up
Because I’m looking at the outside.
It is, after all, all I can see
And I’m thinking “rescue,” “help,” and other sicko
Fantasies about myself
The Rescuer, The Healer, The All-Knowing
(read f-up)
And when I close my eyes, take my breath in and out
Feel that place in my middle up from my solar
plexus. Then there is no
Poor Thing, only me and my beloved
And what’s showing is the petticoat of compassion
Not a needy thing needing another needy thing to take hostage.

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