All those times
you slipped out the front door
as I came in the back;
you arrived at the bar ahead of me
and ordered my drink;
you moved away from the painting
having noted the exact same detail
that then catches my eye
and made off in the cab
I just managed to hail
or got up to leave a seat so I could
sit on the rush-hour train home…
Through the sleight of hand of traffic
and the hoodwink dodge of stars,
how many times have you pulled me
from some distant cosmic wreckage
that I’ve never known I’ve caused
or trapped my coat in a door
to prevent a more serious mishap?
Living before me and after me
the life I’ve never met :
my lives of black cat bones.
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