Cat in the Rain


I am a cat in the rain

huddled under a

cardboard box

wanting only to be

picked up

dried off


but sometimes

I’m that American girl

who thinks if only I had that

little cat under the table

I could suffer the rest of this

If I can’t have long hair or any fun, I can have a cat

sometimes I’m that orange tabby

poor slob without a name

thrown out of a cab

in the rain

to hide in an alley

until Holly is sobbing

searching in boxes

and sometimes I’m that girl in the cab

who can’t bare the idea of being

fenced in

but can’t live

all alone anymore

so she runs into the


looking for Cat

If I ever find a real place that feels like Tiffany’s,

I’ll buy some furniture and give the cat a name

And I know I play it off like I can be this

chic girl

who doesn’t need

but I need

I sit in the clean well-lighted place

the place I go

to escape all the chaos

scribbling in my notebook


yearning for

something more

He disliked bars and bodegas. A clean-well lighted café was a very different thing.


I am that cat,

that American girl,

that lost little Holly

In the rain

waiting to be claimed





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s