my walking carpet

i know girls who sell everything and move to california just because they want to, who tour with bands and date wealthy men who claim to be friends with jimmy page, who make money pretending to love and spend it all on custom leather lingerie and they all look at me like i can pull their thoughts out like a splinter and bandaid their bloody knees. when i am with them i’m a house cat running with leopards and lynx. i fall in love with the shine in their fur and their shiny pink teeth. when they talk about hunting deer, their fangs sinking in fur and muscle, i pretend to know. i pretend i’ve seen the jungle when my paws walk on carpet and linoleum.