The line between lucidity and lunacy is like a feral cat —
thin, grey and fuzzy.

One minute curled up in a comfy ball
purring louder than the daily Dubai jet.

The next minute arched back, wild eyes, fur like a prickly pear,
intentionally slashing with two inch claws.

Sometimes it just takes a nudge
to go over the edge.

Frequent visits will often lead to permanent residence
where the line is erased
and the wild cat finds quarters in the head.

 

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