Too much space

I have high expectations for my lover
they need to worship me like my father worshipped my mother.
I have low expectations for my cat Oyster
I know she'll be heavier each time I hoist her into my lap
If only lovers weren't like cats
every year a bit more fat, a little more detached
How quickly they become a predictable stat I can plot on a graph
There was the one who thought he was Jack Kerouac
always on about the stars or the sunset
There was that delusional Chuck Palahniuk character
convinced meth was a production incentive
I bet you'd never dream Kansas could breed such dysfunction
Maybe the sky is too overwhelming to inspire compunction
Even Oyster the cat can do that.