I could see a cat

An experimental piece. Written after meeting a friend whose personality turned out to be just like a cat’s. She ended up turning on me, like some felines are prone to do; but that’s another story for another time.

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I could see a cat

toying at your feet,

nipping at your toes,

its petite paws padding empty air

and furry frame leaping in swift arcs

from carpet to countertop,

emitting soft, offending mews

each time you swat it away

 

while you sip wine from a glass and speak to it:

“Mmmm? No, darling – you can’t drink this,

it’s for mummy. Go away now…”

you murmur off-hand as if to a child

(a child you know you’ll never want)

Because the cat suffices.

 

Because between your muted conversations,

pensive dinners,

and countless hours nestled on the couch;

you each quench the others thirst for company.

Unlike the icky, sticky excess of human interactions –

all that hustle and bustle,

boisterous chatter, and

touching with germy hands, no no –

your relationship remains

demure and distant,

breaking fast from all that gluttony,

 

cultivating instead a more acquired taste in friendship;

one that allows you to

nip into the other’s food bowl every now and then

without inhaling the entire meal;

otherwise you’d both be sick.

 

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