lunes, 28 de enero de 2008

Fur


Fur

In the proud, shimmering city,
a multitude of cats sneaks by, under
black edgy rain.

We watch them, mingling
with frail lives after crossroads,
long white ghosts,
undulating.

We pulse in rhythm
with the streets, with lamp lights on
shiny droplets
suspended by the wind.

We wrap our steps in the fur
of cars,
microwaves,
airplanes,
in the proud, shimmering city.