Some People Think I Write

I can't be trusted to not drive my car clear off the Ambassador Bridge, or promise you that I won't quit my job if I have to wait for the coffee to brew, but if I did we could erase all of the memories of who I used to be. Maybe we could dance in the street and on rooftops, searching the boulevards for more beautiful things to replace me with. I am taking my cat and a permanent vacation. I know that he has been brought up too proud to purr, but won't you come along? I'm sure we could make the room for you in my heart, in my car, and in my head. I know that there's never been anything glamorous about returning bottles to pay the rent but if you could give me just one chance and one of your nine lives, I'm sure it would feel a whole lot better than this.