Valerie Smith
On kissing a man with a beard
You stopped to speak to a cat.
For once, the cat refused your compliments,
It spat and backed away. We walked on,
Our hands almost touching, almost by accident.
Down a dark alley, I pounced on you.
Here there was more success - no spitting or fighting.
Your sharp teeth and your furry face
Underlined the metaphor.
Then time and timetables intervened.
Cats take all night, but we walked on
Into the lighted street,
Decorously pacing a yard apart
With satisfied smiles
As if you had cream on your whiskers.
Page(s) 59
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