The cat’s energy
lying in bed. It
had the purriest
meow I used to
remember. It’s
11am, not 9:30
and I am think
ing of an itch be
tween 1 and 10.
This day could
be hurling thru
a cacophony of
street signs and
umbrellas. What
used to be taxis,
taxicabs. Instead
the redundancy of
a dog howling at a
cat who can’t hear
the noises she is
making, but the
human can feel
the vibrations
of her purr, of
his animal / not
his animal. And
the human closes
his eyes to the
noise of the
street. Opens
his senses to
the vibes of
being alive.
Of the cat
long gone.
Of the bone
flown at the
dog. Of the
day that will
happen with
out him.
