Imagination Awaits
by Odin Roark

He and his cat
Sit upon upturned suitcases
Peering vacantly out the ocean house window.

He and his cat stare together
As the reflections press back,
Cloning the vacuum of isolation.

The bookshelves behind him,
Empty.
Kitchen cabinets,
Empty.
His stomach,
Empty.
His heart,
Empty.

Beyond the window,
High to the right,
Encroaching weather gathers,
While to the left,
Escaping sun hovers below cloud cover,
Resting a few moments longer upon the horizon.

Another guest joins him.
Perched on the window sill,
A roach.
A rather large roach,
Eying the storm,
Eying the cat.

Soon

Night's mantle
Will erase the perceptions,
Returning his mirrored picture,
His room's enfoldment
To but a dark cell in his mind,
Where bars are ever present,
Except when reflection erases them.

Today

Weathering choruses precede the night,
Its rain quickly turning to flurries,
Quickly turning to carpeting flakes.
Reflections transpose to memories of what once was
Feeding his hunger pangs.

Sparkling ice diamonds and laughter-intoxicating salad.
Alarm clock soup.
Plucked innocence under glass.
XXX soufflé of web loneliness.
Fricassee of conscience forever steaming hot.
Wine of repentance
Patiently breathing,
Readying absolution
For some worthy day.

Without warning,
A smile envelops his stare
Waiting out the sun sinking into slumber.
The tenacious roach,
The testimony of nature's perseverance,
Time's eldest statesman
Remains stoic,
Anticipating the next century,
Cat willing.

And he?
His feline?

Because reflections know not lying,
Living isn't so bad.
There's always imagination for company.