Desiderium

From across this great distance,
I’d like to give you: one cat.
I don’t know much about cats but I like them
from a theoretical standpoint. The idea of cats.
The concept of cats. All that sleekness.
The engine purring. The green eyes.
Do cats have green eyes? Not a clue, but
I like the possibility of a green-eyed cat
tracking a mouse through the basement clutter
the way a government satellite or malignant god
watches its prey from above before pouncing.
I’d like to give you one of those.
Never mind that a cat is a cuddly apex predator
who would devour us if only it had larger fangs
and instead will satisfy that craving
by clawing its frustration into your sofa.
Relatedly, I’d love to give you one sofa. Mostly,
because I like the word sofa. It’s a fantastic word,
just like amethyst, hippopotamus, and paperclip.
I’d like to give you those things as well, because
giving is evidence of friendship
and friendship is evidence of love.
Like the moon is evidence of gravity.