Year of the cat – El año del gato

On a morning from a bogart movie in a country where they turn back time you go strolling through the crowd like peter lorre contemplating a crime she comes out of the sun in a silk dress running like a watercolour in the rain don’t bother asking for explanations she’ll just tell you that she came in the year of the cat. She doesn’t give you time for questions as she locks up your arm in hers and you follow ‘till your sense of which direction completely disappears by the blue tiled walls near the market stalls there’s a hidden door she leads you to these days, she says, i feel my life just like a river running through the year of the cat She looks at you so cooly and her eyes shine like the moon in the sea she comes in incense and patchouli so you take her, to find what’s waiting inside, the year of the cat. Well morning comes and you’re still with her and the bus and the tourists are gone and you’ve thrown away the choice and lost your ticket so you have to stay on but the drum-beat strains of the night remain in the rhythm of the new-born day you know sometime you’re bound to leave her but for now you’re going to stay in the year of the cat.

Year of the cat – El año del gato
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