When I try to fall asleep on the couch, I situate myself parallel with a fat purring creature, the vibrations lull me and I’m hoping the frequency will do something for my aching heart, perhaps it will, perhaps it won’t, and when his fur comes off in tufts, I breathe a sigh of relief because that means he’s a little closer to shedding off the coat you touched, so that maybe I can run my fingers through the white part of his belly again, because how can I explain to the creature that it’s not him I can’t embrace, it’s you, and you are in everything – my soap, my ashtray, my hobbies, my nose, my friends, my lungs, my diction – he meows for attention so I can’t close my eyes, it’s like he knows I’ll dream of lying in the sun – in your arms, in your eyes, in your head, in your love.