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it is just after dusk, and the day has gathered it's coloured petticoats and fled. the sleek, white and black patched cat, from three doors down, to the left has taken up position, on the next door neighbor's shed. she sits, preening under the moth dappled spotlight, as she sings an aria of love and seduction * Un'aura amorosa—" A loving breath"* perhaps.... all the males come to listen in, testosterone, induced adoration. even the little blucat with only vaguest memories of infatuation, tries to heed her siren call... pressing himself against the glass sliding door praying for two miracles the first being osmosis and the second the reincarnation of long lost testicles. but alas, alack god does not heed his plaintive cries... and besides the party next door is now over.... closed down by a shower of rain sent by garden hose all cats,   now wend their way home to dinner's cold and  hearth's warm or to fight as alley cats do in dark corners of this urban sprawl awaiting the midnite reprise of the operatic caterwaul at number two seventy four.
0
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC
opera of the night
it is just after dusk, and the day has gathered it's coloured petticoats and fled. the sleek, white and black patched cat, from three doors down, to the left has taken up position, on the next door neighbor's shed. she sits, preening under the moth dappled spotlight, as she sings an aria of love and seduction * Un'aura amorosa—" A loving breath"* perhaps.... all the males come to listen in, testosterone, induced adoration. even the little blucat with only vaguest memories of infatuation, tries to heed her siren call... pressing himself against the glass sliding door praying for two miracles the first being osmosis and the second the reincarnation of long lost testicles. but alas, alack god does not heed his plaintive cries... and besides the party next door is now over.... closed down by a shower of rain sent by garden hose all cats,   now wend their way home to dinner's cold and  hearth's warm or to fight as alley cats do in dark corners of this urban sprawl awaiting the midnite reprise of the operatic caterwaul at number two seventy four.
this will be the third time this week
betterdays
Written by
F/Australian
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC
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