the Cat, the Woman, the House

sitting on the can,
the door cracked just a little
to let some of
the loneliness
out.
sitting quietly,
the cat pacing
outside,

no doubt
feeling
a little lonely herself.

she pushes her head
inside
and the door
swings
open.
she sniffs at the floor
and crouches
and stares from
across the
room,
her haunches poised,
and her forelegs
tucked,
just crouching there
in the
open
doorway like that—
the cat and I reflecting on the quiet, lonely house.

I hear the side door
open
and the sound of
groceries
and
keys
landing
on
the kitchen table;
the cat walks
off,
and then there is
the sound
of
footsteps
coming through
the house.
a woman
steps into the
doorway.
she looks
but doesn’t stare.
she says something
with her eyes
and what she says is just this side of disappointment.
then
she leans
and closes the door — 
and I sit quietly wondering about the cat and the woman
and myself,
alone in the house.

it’s good to not be alone.