Her favorite color, if she were forced to name one, was brown. Plain brown.
Or maybe, on the third Friday of every month, gray—gray with an A,
Not grey with the exotically European E.
Breakfast: dry toast with a glass of water, room temperature.
Her kind was never meant to reproduce,
Except through poetry
of perhaps the existential variety.
Woman whose name begins with
M or J or both,
writes a letter to no one,
meaning, she's writing a letter to herself,
something she may or may not keep but will eventually be discarded of anyway because it's too quiet to be made curious.
It is an imaginary letter to an imaginary person she would like to be her friend.
I changed the cat's food from dry chicken to wet tuna, and she liked it at first. But it didn't agree with her. I should have known better than to change it.
If you think of it some time, please visit. I'd love to show you my marble collection.
--composition in progress--