by Marisa Siegel
I rush into. I beg to take on more then I can or should handle. I don’t factor me in, just objective. I hate math. I never learned how to play chess.
We have a new kitten. Fitzgerald, but practically speaking Fitz. He’s fucking adorable. He also moans and meows all the time. I live in apartment building. I ask my neighbors to turn down music. This is another coincidence.
He is not Bear.
(I wonder about being a girl writing a poetry blog about her cats. I wouldn’t describe the situation that way, but one could.)
This is possible: to die immediately. To cease to exist just short of instantaneously. Also possible is to die too soon. And yes, to die peacefully.
I like that movie about Bobby Fischer with Jodie Foster but I hate chess. When I was younger, everyone assumed I’d play chess. But I never did.
(I am pretending this is about chess.)
If I told you I was terrible at pretending, would you agree? If I asked you who you were, would you tell me the story I’ve already imagined? Do you know there is a preexisting condition?
You probably play chess. You definitely don’t hate math. You have more patience than me, absolutely.
This is not about you. I’m… sorry.