Kristen de Kline #13 – Black cats

Black cats

A black cat creeping up the side of the moveable bed, casters w-h-e-e-l-i-n-g across timber floorboards black cat one looking up at me, semi propped up in bed against fluffed up retro Hawaiian Hula girls lazy Sunday morning lazy Monday morning half sleeping not sleeping missing my girl plunger of coffee croissants oozing with butter and strawberry jam half sleeping not sleeping missing my girl. Black cat one sniffing at my fingers dangling out of bed – a truce? – black cat one retreats to another room, another bed, a black cardigan stretched out lovingly, black cat two sits over the ducted heating vent, looks at me – suspiciously? warily? Eyeing me off: where’s my Kath my breakfast fresh water what are you doing here

A grid of glimpses through bamboo blinds: tiles on the red roof of the neighbour’s house a young man’s voice says abruptly FUCK OFF another youngish voice, also male: PISS OFF YOURSELF followed by a long SSSSSSHHHHHHH (Mother? Grandmother?) a grid of glimpses through bamboo blinds: Silver SUV drives off too quickly the green waste bin is hooked up high – suspended in space like a hanged man – then dumped on the driveway a grid of glimpses through bamboo blinds: something spindly and green, overcast tones on the canvas, streaky blue lines hurriedly painted on the image – in the far right corner of the canvas you can make out the traces of black cat one sneaking through the cat-flap, black cat two camouflaged in the folds of a suede leather jacket, trying to be seen not seen what are you doing here where’s my Kath

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