Fog Cat
visibility: poor, on purpose
I was born on a morning the sky forgot to finish, and it stuck to me.
People walk past at four steps and later swear the field was empty.
visibility: poor, on purpose
I was born on a morning the sky forgot to finish, and it stuck to me.
People walk past at four steps and later swear the field was empty.
That is the detail everyone gets wrong. I stand exactly where I have always stood. The air does the rest, and it does it for free, and I am not going to correct a good arrangement.
The trees get the same treatment and nobody accuses them of anything.
The field fills in around eight. By nine I am a rumour with ears.
It thins. I move six steps left. Nobody notices the difference, which is the point.
It comes back thicker. I stay out. This is the only weather I have ever agreed with.
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