Writing off the Subject

That blue speckled cat
walking the steamy concrete ledge
is following his whiskers
to the ocean
where sailboats trickle
across the fragile water,
masts stretching to the sky
full of marshmallows, angels' wings,
and cotton
that grows in dusty fields
so hot that the sun
cracks open the
dirt and ants peek in to see crumbs
left from a picnic
with soda crackers
and orange cheese
and lemonade
squeezed by a fat, sweaty woman
in the early morning
as the rooster crows to start the day.