tom cat

the battery on
my father's cell phone is
dead.
I call and call, no answer.
his voice mail is
in Spanish, a language
he doesn't speak, so I leave
no message.
I try the land line.
no answer there either.
he's either napping, at
the grocery store,
in the yard pulling
at imaginary weeds, or
over at the Italian lady's
condo doing god knows what
beyond pasta bread and wine.
at ninety
he still has some tom
cat in him.