Steve still hasn’t come home. I begin to imagine him hiking down the road, his possessions tied in a bundle at the end of a stick.

I’m sleeping like a lamb. I don’t even know if that’s the correct phrase, I’m sticking with it. Baaaa.

Ichabod the cat now makes hideous snorting noises that I find disturbing. Such a lot of snort in such a small package. She goes to the vet on Wednesday.

Orson the cat now yowls all the time. I don’t know when he goes to the vet.

Rumor has it that ripe tomatoes are available down the road. After work, guess where I’ll be? You guessed it. Down the road.

The neighbors took down my fence to put a bobcat in their yard. Not a feline bobcat. The earthmoving equipment type of bobcat. I told them they couldn’t come back through my yard. They’ve been avoiding me ever since.

Something keeps eating the Joe Pye Weed. Why would anything eat something called “Joe Pye Weed”? It sounds awful.

I posted the first half of the blank verse on a poetry forum and got no replies. I don’t blame anyone. I wouldn’t have replied either.

I posted the last snippet to a different forum and got plenty of replies. The replies pointed out that the meaning I was expecting readers to get and the meaning readers are actually going to get are so divergent that I’m wondering if I have lost my freaking mind.