The Thirteenth

It’s a Friday night,
And there’s a cat on the sidewalk.

The sky is so dark it has no color,
Stars peeking from behind cloud blankets
But ducking back behind cover.
The moon is a fluorescent nightlight-
Not enough to illuminate the room,
But enough to light the way.

Lamppost, rusted over
And innocent bird becomes a corvid
As shadows melt into her wings.
A conversation of chirps and yowls
To the undersized cat on the sidewalk below.

A man crosses on the other side of the road.
Superstitious, afraid of luck,
The feline remains alone.
It curls its tail, licks its paw,
Nonchalant.
The night is just a night,
numbers have to luck.

A child, patrolling, slinks along the same concrete path.
Alone and unwatched,
The child passes under a blacked-out lamppost.
He greets the bird as a friend.
There is no cat.