For breakfast Izzy and I share

a can of fish and two

spoons of buttered popcorn –

we open the Amazon box together

she watches while I put away the order;

we study cat videos on the computer

Izzy likes that; for exercise

we stomp into the garden, Izzy hisses the ducks

away – it’s just the two of us now,

me and the cat; when we drive to town we wear

matching masks – Izzy doesn’t need one but pretends.

I buy bottles of water at the store – Izzy

gets thirsty these days, no rain, big drought;

I get thirsty too. We

go home listening to the radio

playing bird songs –

Izzy rides gunshot.