These days, the report from here is ambiguous —
a mixture of natural beauty and something else,
inexplicably appearing right before my eyes.
The roses blossoming outside my window are gorgeous,
and yet I saw a rat rustling in the birdseed yesterday.
I opened the side window and barked at him, but he
just stared back at me, as if I was hardly there.
Perhaps more and more animals will begin to ignore
humans, waiting for us to finally eliminate ourselves.
On the living room couch, some clothes casually relax,
dreading having to go back into the closet or drawers.
They prefer the light I guess, the open spaces.
There is a box of 8 Solar Pathway Lights stationed
by the front door, near the shoes I rarely wear anymore.
The front pathways are overgrown lately, and my feet
prefer to go naked, so I look at the box and imagine
the lights patiently biding their time in the boxy dark,
dreaming together of a future in bright sunlight.
There are two goldfish in a tank we keep that continue
growing to an astounding size — eventually they will
outgrow the house at their current rate of expansion.
They may become larger than our whole neighborhood,
larger than our rats and roses, unfit for any clothes
or unworn shoes, so big that, when it rains, I won’t
need the plastic tarp to cover over that one roof spot
where the water gets in, because the enormous fish will
simply splash their tails and all the water from the sky
will suddenly go in another direction, to Salt Doll Town,
where it will bless us all with a sweet rainy benediction,
and our heavy burdens, the ones which we’ve borne
for so long, will finally all melt away with us,
and the animals will at last relax.