LIKE A PALETTE OF RAIN CLOUDS,EYES THE COLOR OF YOUNG RICE

She is silver, signifying wealth. 

Each blue hair 

is tipped with shine,

and she lets me know she thinks

I’m a dud, even though I’m the one

who put a toy mouse stuffed

with catnip into the bathtub

so that she could slip, paw, tumble

and chase it all about.

She chews each corner 

of my journal, has been known

to stick her nose in my coffee,

fish shrimp out of a temporarily

unattended bowl of steaming

Top Ramen, and steal

anything she has a mind to steal 

from my kitchen counter.

She has the mentality of 

a five-year-old with an awful

case of the terrible twos.

Kaylee is a Korat. Google that,

then be filled with wonder, 

dear reader, at the mental 

instability of this author.