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The seagulls are doing their dance again – Wings clasped to their sides, they stare up the street.Up and down, up and down, go their knobbly pink knees;
I am a crocodile who lost my smile in the turbulent waters of the Nile.When I was very small, trapped inside my crocodile egg,
Teach me the language of Cat;the slow-motion blink, that crystal stare,a tight-lipped purr and a wide-mouthed hiss.Let me walk with a saunter, nose in the air.
The moon was married last nightand nobody saw,dressed up in her ghostly dressfor the summer ball.
When I was bornI was a familiar,a black cat, Satan’s favourite form.
We turn our faces up and jiggle thirty toes,Morse-coding longing with our restless beat.When will it come?Shepherds on the first Nativity, we scan the skiesand huddle,