nothing to be done wake up in the morning and sip some insipid tea nothing to be said just listen to the ghosts of sure footed crabs walking on the sand - you can tell they are ghosts because they walk in a softer way nothing to be seen only mrs. morrison walking out of her two-bedroom apartment dressed in her morning slacks and a red sweater she pauses at the sidewalk to look around maybe she is looking for her cat or maybe she just wants a reassurance that she is still here i am here too atleast thats what i think and feel i used to think once i think not anymore now i only think about which soap to buy and which whip to crack nothing to be thought i hear the sounds of summer rain too they used to be happy sounds one day i was happy one day we were happy one day i will think i am happy one day i will walk out of my apartment and look for the ghosts of my cats beckett and burroughs would be happily dead and walking my dead cats in the park everyone all around would be happy and i standing there will miss the comforts of being sad.