I took a long walk,
just me and Izzy the cat. We walked
across the country. When she got tired
I pulled her in a red wagon like
she was a princess, Princess Izzy. We started
out in winter in Maine among frost giants
and granite, kept to byroads and pathways.
Each night we made a campfire, toasted
white bread and tunafish, gazed
into the flames. A crowd of gray ghostie cats
came and sat with us, disappeared
in the morning. We walked during the day
and rested at night, travelled through the Midwest,
into the bayous and the Plains, set our toes
afire at Galveston. In New Mexico I traded our wagon
for a pink stroller and Izzy agreed
it made for a comfortable ride. I started
calling her baby Izzy till she asked
me to stop. The ghosts stayed with us
each night around the campfire
just for companionship I thought.
Izzy and I looked up at the stars and felt
good like explorers or adventurers.
Finally we arrived at the Pacific Ocean.
I was pretty footworn and Izzy was getting
anxious after many months on the road. She
leaped out of the stroller into the hot