POEM | “Fridays”

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1.

In my 60somethings,
Fridays tumble past. Yikes,
another one. Where did

that week go? What did
I do, if anything?
And do I need to do

more doing? I’m bobbing forward
on a flood of Fridays.
I mark their passage

with a favorite blogger
who most days orates
& observes the

latest wave of news.
He monitors, he gauges,
how far down

the slippery slope we’re
slipped into democracy’s
demise. Some days, there’s

good news. If but a single
post. A sensible kind thing
just happened! All’s not

lost, after all our
many losses. I read him
for such posts. For

I know him to be
sane. And sensible. And I
relish his good news.

2.

On Fridays, every week,
his post announces
“Friday Cat Blogging.”

Photos of his cats, or his
mother’s clump of kittens. Or
a neighbor cat come calling.

I mark my life with Kevin’s
cats. For that’s is Kevin’s name.
Look, another round of cats

on Kevin’s blog. His
whiskered cats, nappy cats,
kittens in a sleepy clump,

means I’ve lived another
week. Kevin—who has a
neurological disease that’ll

kill him, who knows when,
also posts the latest data,
the progress or the

holding pattern of
his disease. I hope he lasts awhile.
For I turn to him when the

news grows dire. His measured
calm placates & soothes.
Plus, I can gauge if to be

especially alarmed
if Kevin is especially alarmed.
Plus, the Fridays he devotes

to cat photography, mark out
my life, in furry,
fuzzy clumps.


“Fridays,” by Douglas John Imbrogno | thestoryisthething.com | july 9.2020 | Read Kevin Drum’s blog here: motherjones.com/kevin-drum/


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