does not growl or purr or even talk

except when I'm trying to make sense

of this amorphous globe I spin upon.

 

News these days causes me to

break out in a rash of negativity

and ugly red hives.

 

My home is not nest-like or cave or the end

of a maze of tunnels culminating in a soft cozy 

terminus that is a well deserved bed of felt.

 

Where I live weaves in and out of the sky

and feeds me the inspiration

that offers me sustenance.

 

It can only be seen with 

my custom made 3-D glasses.

 

And when I put them on I see

the home that had been 

invisible to me.

 

It jumps toward me with such 

speed that I gasp and

put out my arms, 

try to fend it off.

 

This exercise in futility fails

because it goes through me

and changes who I am.

 

And when I look down 

with uncertainty I realize

the chameleon that I am

and who I have become.