Finding the Cat at a Party

She is always sitting there, on a chair.
And I know that is our solstice;
The chair by the table of tiny sausages that no-one eats.
She curls on my lap. It's warm,
But not the blaring heat of teenagers.
For just a moment, we stare into eachother's eyes. Then she closes them and so I close mine.
Together we can ignore the obnoxious music until, unloved, it leaves us in peace.
Me and her in a corner of clouds, floating just above that chair.
We disappear.
The cops arrive and they find no-one.
The people have scattered, in turn scattering an empty coolness around the room.
We squint through half-closed eyes.
One cop, tall and tired, walks past us, glancing at our haven, our chair.
I think,
Who even invited me to this party?
She opens her eyes fully,
Tail brushing my arm.

By Katherine Perry
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