Just me and the cat. Of course. Should be asleep. Instead we’re eating popcorn and watching home movies that came to me when my folks moved to the new place. Brittle, fading colors from back before my hair slid off the top of my head. Aren’t you that cute blonde in black with white polka dots? If I weren’t such a camera-hound, I’d have turned and danced with you. Oh, a fool I was. Could have been looking into your eyes. (Lol I wasn’t there.) Yeah. But I still might make a poem out of this. A poem about the poetry-in-motion that is you. Ahhhhhh.  (I wish I could think to make a poem. That’s cool.) I wish your head would clear. At least of pain. Don’t much like when you cleanse it of me.