And this is called "Bobby."
He tells stories smoking dope.
No one listens anymore.
People abandon kittens at the end of the road.
He adopts them.
Chops wood, stacks cords against walls outside the trailer.
He sees cats shaking in the Oregon cold.
He calls it Gladiator school the place he comes from.
Though the arena is empty, the wood stove
burns red hot one time, the damper opened too long.
All that clean oxygen.
He hears the metal walls scream as they cool down.
He watches with closed mouth.
He fights gang wars in dreams, tries
to lay down weapons when he plays with the kittens
face soft as his worst meanness.