The first guy to see me naked
Stretched out on the carpet himself, he traced me drunkenly with one lazy eye
Eyes of sun, nose of the tiniest baby flowers when the earth starts to remember she is alive on the first day of the thaw.
He said nothing as I caressed his mass of muscle in repose.
And the day I locked us in the room together
The day I was drowning in the hurricane of harrowing voices in my seventh-grade brain
I crumpled to the floor to meet his eyes
His nose touched mine, the kiss of innocence
His breath smelled like the wet food we kept in cans in the cabinet, next to the dormant catnip mice.
Note: This little morsel of chicken-scratch on the Internet is a tribute to Flash, an amazing, enchanting, and unique white kitten who entered my life in the seventh grade (I was the one in middle school, not the cat) and left the same year, after swallowing, among other inedible objects, a nickel – the removal surgery ended in his heart stopping, and he couldn’t be revived. So if you have cats or dogs, remember never to leave anything small and deadly on the floor! Flash, if you cared for reading, I know you’d be reading this from cat heaven.
Picture by rasputina2 on Flickr.