At the Moment
By Jeffrey Zable
• • •
“I could die right this second and it could be days
before anyone would know!” he said to his cat,
who generally was a good listener but who never
responded with human speech until now:
“Given what you just expressed, I could starve to death,
so please take care of yourself for me!”
“How come I’ve never heard you speak before?”
he said to him, and he answered, “I’m not exactly sure,
except the thought of starving to death is not very pleasant!”
“Out of curiosity. . .” his master responded, “Does the thought
of my not being around mean anything to you?”
“It means something!” the cat replied, “but the prospect
of going hungry just means a bit more at the moment. . .”
before anyone would know!” he said to his cat,
who generally was a good listener but who never
responded with human speech until now:
“Given what you just expressed, I could starve to death,
so please take care of yourself for me!”
“How come I’ve never heard you speak before?”
he said to him, and he answered, “I’m not exactly sure,
except the thought of starving to death is not very pleasant!”
“Out of curiosity. . .” his master responded, “Does the thought
of my not being around mean anything to you?”
“It means something!” the cat replied, “but the prospect
of going hungry just means a bit more at the moment. . .”
• • •
Jeffrey Zable is a teacher, conga drummer/percussionist who plays for dance classes and rumbas around the San Francisco Bay Area, and a writer of poetry, flash-fiction, and non-fiction. He’s published five chapbooks and his writing has appeared in hundreds of literary magazines and anthologies––most recently in Chewers & Masticadores, Linked Verse, Ranger, Cacti Fur, Uppagus, Greensilk, and many others.
