Measured Extravagance

27 January 2002 - 12:54 p.m.

Posting from New Orleans. More about it later (when I'm back at my home computer), but, in the meantime, I woke up this morning with a poem for Natalieeeee. (She'd planted the seeds with her post about a strange dream she'd had about her own cat a couple of weeks ago, and I'm currently listening to Gris-Gris, Stretch and B.B. (named after B.B. King) provide a running commentary on breakfast (yes, I know what time it is. I'm on NOLA time...)). (No need for Poetic Voice here, I'm just playing around...)


Last night, my cat turned into a bouquet of fish.
She smells like an ice cream cone melting in the sea,
a marbling of cream and salt and lazy springiness.

This morning, I nearly took off someone's head.
It wasn't the cat's. His unscrews neatly
and always lands right side up, like his feet.

Tonight, I'm watching the cats swoop around,
transparent as the lilt of a tiny bell,
cool and silver and rich as a forest of fish.

    - pld

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