but that's the amusement of it all, don't you think? of course I could blink myself onto its head the moment it leaves the house, but then it wouldn't have to swim and ferry me, and that’s always a sight. it paddles like a dog. it you'd think it funny, if you had a sense of humor. you'd might have a chance at good if you had a sense of humor, you know that? surely it's sinful that you don't. oh well, I like you better anyways for your evil, so long as you let the creature well enough alone.
moonlight tonight and snow falling softly. do you think of me on white nights too? I'd rather you didn't. it's horrible to think of you thinking of me because I suppose you want me back and I don't want to go. you know I don't want to go. this cat's better company by a thousand miles of walking and a couple hundred of swimming too. it's what you're not, soft and warm and reliable. it's small enough to lock the door on if I need to and it always says thank you when I make us cheesecake squares. meows, anyway.
they know nothing of us and yet they are not afraid. or they know nothing of us and so they are not afraid. and so they come back, always, and so we will always have them come back, like this: if the red-coated one slips on one cable, the cable will draw taut and steady under its foot. if it lays hand on a rung, the rung will hold no matter how ancient. the bones laid in our foundations will remain still and dry. the floorboards will remain bloodless. we sleep, and we like sleeping. you stay where you are.