Dreaming of Tuesday’s Parties

Dreaming of Tuesday’s

parties, glorious rippling

colors, all manner of

food and gaiety, strangers with

strange stories, big ridiculous hats,

cacophony of singing,

and drunkenness, lots of it

spinning, hours disappearing

under the weight of the night

and slow dancing whispers,

all versions of us

unwilling to believe in a

dawning Wednesday.

there is this cat on the walk

There is this cat on the walk
And when I shuffle on by,
She swishes her tail, she
Stops to say hi.

There is this cat on the walk,
I swear she knows me,
She looks up with pause,
She rubs legs with a cause.

And before she runs off
This cat seems to say
“You think it ain’t true
But I’m one you once knew….”