first i had a cough   now

marketa

has a cough   we keep each other

awake   so we take 

turns

sleeping on the couch   like

two old people   who need

their 

rest   more than they need their

love   for better   for 

worse

in sickness   and in health   what

does it say about us   if we cannot sleep

together   

through such a trifle   as this  

~

perhaps it says   lord help us   we've become sensible

~

In the morning I ask her about this now found sensibility. She has just come from the bedroom. I'm at the table having tea. She comes and stands next to me. I put one arm around her hips, and rest my head against her belly. My free hand finds its way up and under her nightgown. 

"Are we two Old People?" I ask.

She makes a face, which I interpret to mean no way José, then coughs. Then coughs some more. 

I sigh. Old or not, she is a sick little kitten, and I kiss her soft little kitten tummy, and rise to make her a cup of tea with honey and lemon.

~

From the kitchen, and out the window, I see it is a foggy morning in the city, gray and chilly. The sun is somewhere to the east, yet to be seen. Crows are making their awful, belligerent, morning racket. I think of the day ahead, and work, and if she will go to work, too, or call in sick and miss her classes. We do seem like Old People with real world problems, first-world problems though they may be. I guess the reality is, we may not be old, but we are older that we were yesterday.

~

In the living room I hear, cough cough, and the chords she is strumming.