Which can be brushed out long and fine to lie across a pillow or bunched and scrunched into an angry knot of rain before it is undone, when long hanks of it hang
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 seagulls think we live at the seaside: the tower blocks are their cliffs; they swoop for fish in the gutter but are happy that it's last night's fried rice.