Madness

Every step you take, it follows. Sometimes it is so far back, you could hardly see if you looked. Other times it's breathing down your neck. Madness.

And the day that it overtakes you, I'll be there singing The Battle Hymn of the Republic backwards, my spatula held aloft, in a gesture of goodwill.

Bring your cat. He and I never did finish our conversation on Marxist theory.

Communist.