We go to the movies.
The car, The shoes,
The lipstick, the keys, the jacket,
The diet coke, the popcorn, the Kleenex.
Previews, subtitles, credits.
At home, Ida wants the ball.
She chases it under the chair.
Prickly ball. Squishy ball, tennis ball.
Round and round, she chews
And sits, paws over it.
If it’s not one thing, it’s another.