Cats condition their owners, the cat jumps on the piano in the morning. Stamps on the keys, plays a catwalk, a cat rhythm, tuneless sequence of notes-
She is drawing attention, hungry at five forty five in the morning. Up and down the keyboard, it always works. The human comes out to close the lid on the upright piano, the cat perched on the narrow strut beside the keys, watching. Then she jumps down to the floor and starts to preen herself., then rubs her arched back against the corners of furniture, human legs, it is irrelevant.
Open the fridge to see if there is any cat food there, there is not. A fresh tin, some food on the plate, the cat enthusiastic pushes it's face into the plate. the brown sauce surrounding the lumps of meat, meat from an unidentifiable source. Not to be identified with the means currently available.z
Sit at the table, fresh air coming in through the open window, the sound of traffic, occasional pedestrians returning home from some night out on the town.
This is the way things go, now there is the hiss, then the burble from the coffee pot on the gas, the light pouring in through the window, the electromagnetic clocks ticking, those eighty year old beauties, brass marble and wood.
Drifting through the days, the weeks and the years.
The hiss in the ears is quiet, painless.
Sit here amid the mess owned by and created by others, placed on the furniture, every available horizontal surface a repository for things needed once, not needed momentarily, but maybe to be useful sometime.
Two bells, it is six thirty.
stop now
yearn for the embrace and the voice saying that all is well.
dreams.
It is not well.
She is drawing attention, hungry at five forty five in the morning. Up and down the keyboard, it always works. The human comes out to close the lid on the upright piano, the cat perched on the narrow strut beside the keys, watching. Then she jumps down to the floor and starts to preen herself., then rubs her arched back against the corners of furniture, human legs, it is irrelevant.
Open the fridge to see if there is any cat food there, there is not. A fresh tin, some food on the plate, the cat enthusiastic pushes it's face into the plate. the brown sauce surrounding the lumps of meat, meat from an unidentifiable source. Not to be identified with the means currently available.z
Sit at the table, fresh air coming in through the open window, the sound of traffic, occasional pedestrians returning home from some night out on the town.
This is the way things go, now there is the hiss, then the burble from the coffee pot on the gas, the light pouring in through the window, the electromagnetic clocks ticking, those eighty year old beauties, brass marble and wood.
Drifting through the days, the weeks and the years.
The hiss in the ears is quiet, painless.
Sit here amid the mess owned by and created by others, placed on the furniture, every available horizontal surface a repository for things needed once, not needed momentarily, but maybe to be useful sometime.
Two bells, it is six thirty.
stop now
yearn for the embrace and the voice saying that all is well.
dreams.
It is not well.
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