White Cat Blues

I can almost visualize
on the low grey recliner
by the tv on the floor
a framed photograph of me
holding you
holding that silly white cat

I can almost remember
in the middle of the room
with you spread across my back
lying there breathing deeply
stroking you
stroking a purring white cat

I spend hours sometimes days
reliving a future that
belongs now to someone else
loving you
loving the crazy white cat



***- In loving (and warily respectful) memory of Stiggy.

I do not sleep but I dream
stretch your hand
outside, the rain
sizzles on the coal tar
and begins the journey
back to the cloud
and if you touch
this rain as I do
miles distant
our fingers will meet



***- Rainy night. Alone.