leave me real roses on my doorstep ................I called her Theadora.
remember? ...........................She was a stray white kitten
the wheat from the chafe ......................with a bushy burr-infested smoke-black tail.
truncated dark days.........Black spots flowered
a clear coherent voice......on her sweet white feline face.
in the tin container.....
never have too many..................Every evening I waited expectantly for Theadora
brown grass on the hills...to come to the doorway of my tent
the whimpering dogs..........and drink the milk,
the bottle that mysteriously appeared ................that I faithfully set out for her.
narrow streets paved with well worn stones................ sleep............................... background noise............ on the belly of the low flying plane............. in the playground the boys made fun of her.............. the smell of green grass.... warm sun......................... a small stock of food........................ working............................ making things.................... blue shirt....................... making love...................... blue jeans......................... steaming plates of pasta...................... never know why............... cold damp grass.............................. a long walk into town.......................... while Mary and Trevor looked on............. a dark corner.................... walking............................. riding................................ the horizon........................

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