Do you remember that time
when I mistook our red watering can
for a cat?
No, of course you don’t,
because I never mentioned it,
(‘Until now!’ as my class of 2000
used to joke),
out of the embarrassment which comes
from confusing red watering cans
with tortoiseshell cats.
Rather like the time
when I mistook a pot plant
for a cat (catalogued
in a poem some years ago),
and the time, just now,
when I mistook my black shoes
in the hall
for a cat.
All of which has me thinking
that maybe I could mistake anything
for a cat,
like those times in the past,
when everyone mistook my smile
for a smile.
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