cats and other things

[lowdirtywar]

black cat passing under waning moon
as if he owned the streets
and the streets were his.
I look briefly at you and you’re
looking back at me; awkward.
we both focus on the wayward cat
as if it really matters that he’s lost
or that he never had a home.
you don’t really care, or at least
I don’t really care and you
never had a thing for cats.

broad daylight and you run
the meadow like it’s easy,
like it isn’t acres of field and
like it doesn’t tire even the
steadiest of mares. it’s your
freedom and your home inside
your mind where they can’t
see or intrude upon your ecstasy.
no one has to know you’ve
never left the city once.

what purpose does it serve,
I ask in vain for you’re looking
at the cat intently, with concern.
they can call you crazy but it
doesn’t change your point of
view; the view is too pretty
from here to let go now.

don’t let go now. hold on to
what you’ve got and don’t let
me convince you otherwise.
as the black cat chases the
floppy bugs that dob the dirt
relentlessly to no avail, you
chase your dreams and find they
are exactly where you left them.