Work drive delivery at night,
Hate driving at night,
To many deer out,
Two more days no food for older cats,
Ling Ling is crying,
Fourteen years old,
Can’t collect food ordered until seven pm,
That means borrowing money for gas,
Going backwards down my stairs,
Walking in the dark to my car,
Lock doesn’t work,
My horn will erupt through the Iowan night as I make haste to climb aboard to shut the damn thing off,
What fuck designed the automated key to not allow the key to work like a key and simply open your god damn door!
Then drive to the gas station,
Pump gas in cold as hell Iowa night,
I’ll think of the painful cries of Ling Ling as I drive,
Park in the back then return after loaded,
Hopefully I can get one bag inside,
In the god awful its seventeen degrees feels like eight,
Was predicted to reach the twenty-four,
Wrong again !
Val Whitewolf 