the cat,
uncurious and
uncaring
about the mouse
peeking
around the corner
lies curled
in a bowl
in the center
of the table.
the sun
stretches a
band of warm
gold across
her grey striped
back. there is
no hurry to this
world, no place
needed to go.
her green
eyes, slivers
of cut glass blink
sleepily
at it all.
it's hard to figure
if you are
emulating her,
or her you.
both being so much
alike.
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