Looking through my window, I see you there again. Such a strange fragment of familiarity.
Your neck, still naked, unsettles me. The way you sneak around without a jingle-jangle announcing each step.
We lock eyes and our dance begins. I open the door. You pause, shoulders above your forehead and hold until until I click my tongue and trace my fingers along the ground. You come and rub yourself against my arm, recoiling if I move with any conviction. I wonder which one of us is petting the other.
Where am I save your cheek? The bridge of your nose, ridge between your eyes, the spot of white fur above your left brow?
You purr and for a moment remind me of another cat. A cat that was once mine, a cat that is mine, a cat that will be mine. But you are not this cat.
Your paws leave prints on the soil far beneath my patio stones as you run away again.