stray cat love

i miss the orange stalker

of the leafy affluent suburb.

3 times in as many weeks

i’ve stepped out on the weathered planks

and been greeted only by

distant highway noise.

and my heart misses

the parasite bitten fur

the blood scored criss crossed

across his eyes

the hobbled hips

that made him walk

like a slow motion elvis

(the old version)

he who trusted few

let my hand grace his dry fur

never purring

silently (for some reason

i only imagine)

accepting my touch

as though he knew

it was more for me than his.

the summer i stepped out on a limb

he was there

almost confirming my step

with his regular presence

dirty towel

u.s. mail shelter as it was.

he owned the deck

not without bloodshed and sleepless nights

for nothing more than my

few strokes

and a little food he had to contest with the bluejays.

i miss his crippled form

somehow jumping 6 feet up on the deck

to hobbling out through the second from the last rung

i miss his witching hour yowl

his scabs

his unrequited patience

his soul

i miss you glo.