I can see her paw prints from when she stepped in a stream of wet paint
The dog downstairs is loud enough to scare our invisible cat on the ceiling
We fear she will try to jump out of the window and she will float up into the sky
Past the clouds away from the dog below and away from the snow
I don't know how far she would float or what would happen when she hit the stratosphere
But the windows are closed and the locks are impossible
So - she couldn't get out if she wanted to
I hear our invisible cat on the ceiling trying to talk to me
She meows and meows trying to make me see her
I meow back, hoping that she understands that I don't understand cat-speak
I want to know how long she's lived here, if she pays rent
What she eats and how she gets her food
When she sleeps and what she does when we shut the bedroom doors
As it turns out, the meowing was just my roommate.
And he laughs maliciously at my gullibility thinking he has me fooled
Thinking that I am dreaming some strange intergalactic upside-down pet
I just look at him and ask,
"If there never was an invisible cat on the ceiling, how did the footprints get there?"
