Is that what I look like?

IS THAT WHAT I LOOK LIKE? (D A D F# B E, capo 3)

Pour the milk out first, I can wait. This cat really needs it.

You don’t have to say. I see the curtains drawn. He has gone away.

And we talk about how to get to Wallsend while the cat drinks his dinner.

All this going. A lot of leaving.

Did you see the sunrise this morning?

 

It was just a week ago I gave him a haircut. All he said was: Is that what I look like?

He had weed in the bathroom next to shaving cream and a razor. He said I could use them to shave his shoulders if I want (I didn’t).

When I left I said I’d call him on Christmas but I never did. He died in the hospital early that morning.

Dominoes, 11am. Pepperoni, never again.

 

Maybe we are like Adrianne, happy living inside. Oblivious to the rest of the street.

Until one day, there’s a tear in the screen of the bedroom window. We paw at it, we jump.

And suddenly there’s this great big blue sky and a great big sun.

Until then, you didn’t know what you looked like.

I’m not leaving but I am coming.

Wait for me with a mirror.