Restoration Iii Poem by Morgan Michaels

Donnie shook his foot free of the amorous tortoise. The creature fell away and crawled guiltily off.

Larry hung up the phone and sat down in the rocker.

'Larry', said Donnie, gravely, 'I don't like to say, but I think your tortoise has fallen in love with my oxfords'.

'That's ridiculous', said Larry, flatly. 'Not my Lolly. Not in my house'.

He was indignant and didn't care to think of harboring a tortoise with a shoe fetish.

Donnie regretted his remark. Feet safely on the hassock, he didn't want to make an issue, so he said nothing. Secretly, he touched his pocket phone, though, which had a camera. He wanted to be ready in case it happened again. Not vindictive, he was evidence- based.

Larry began to rail against I-Stop. In a minute, the phone rang, again. This time the caller was Gene, Larry's lawyer, for whom voice-mail wasn't an option.

'Hi, Gene', said Larry, stoutly, waving at Donnie. 'Yes, I know. We should talk about it. Listen, ah....'

Donnie felt the old ache behind the knee and put his foot on the floor, automatically. On TV a large white cat with vivid green eyes was peeping up over the side of a bed into the range of a hand-held camera, ducking back shyly, when it felt the scrutiny too intense. The cat's head rose and set like the moon. Donnie laughed and wondered how the cat felt, whose mere animal instincts compelled it to hide. He forgot Lolly, altogether. But several minutes later...