alley cat blues

I ran my fingers through my

hair; wet hair

it had been raining

and i tasted the fruits left

on the counter

such examples of dancing

you look for, are found in

the faded memories we are forgetting

I stop moving

and listen

on the door.

a closed door. light slides

through the creases around it

I find myself unable to remember

what to do with structures

So i kiss the wood

and stroke it gently

Though you lie worlds

behind it

and i am only a cat

searching for milk and

a soft place to sleep.