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We’re really not rivals,

Just getting-to-know-each-other-friends…

Trading family stories

As marriage naturally intends.

We talked about outhouses

And the origin of “AIR-WICK”…

A glass jar with green scented fluid

With a frame and an actual wick!

I saw one at my Aunt Maude’s place

In the “two-holer” back of a shed…

The jar was up in a corner

And it smelled better than what I did!

Anyway, my Mom in an outhouse,

Early misty morning so new…

She had the door wide open

When a bobcat walked past in the dew!

He  never looked over at her

As she held her breath in…

Rather vulnerably seated

With the state she was in!

The bobcat passed not looking,

This beautiful cat was gone…

And Mom was happy to be alive

So glad nothing had gone wrong!

–Jonathan Caswell

2 thoughts on “BOBCAT AND PAINTER

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