listening to music,
i catch a glimpse
of you scampering
outside, the
light
shining through
my window
making your white fur
glow in the night.
by the time i get
my phone, you are
already out of sight.
there is only the orange
light
of a nearby streetlamp,
the tidy green leaves
of nearby shrubbery,
the shine of white
stones underneath.
the music fades.
i slip into my coat
and my sneakers
and glide into
the hallway. the hall
light
flicks on as i
make my way to
the door, which
slowly creaks open
when i press the
gray button with
the wheelchair on it.
the moon is a low
crescent shining yellow
light
on rough pavement
as i step outside
and hear the crunch
under my soles.
i make my way
around my building
with its red brick walls
and neon purple
light
emanating from
uncovered windows.
i come to the shrubs
jutting out of their
bed of tiny pebbles,
turn on my phone
light,
and walk around.
i get on my knees
and peer underneath,
hoping for a glimpse
of matted fur
or beady eyes,
but you are long
gone into the night.
i stand up. there
is nothing but me
and the stones
and the shrubs
and the
light.