The Black Cat

The black cat met me in the parking lot.
We both paused, faced off.
She didn’t care who won,
Shrugged.
Sauntered over the curb and into the bushes,
Her arched back rolling like a pensive wave.

She left me-
My car keys stranded halfway to their home.
Ladders, cracks, and a host of black cats
Haunted the strained squeal of the lock,
Screamed doom at the click of the seatbelt,
Groaned disaster at the turn of the ignition.

I kept waiting for it-
Waiting to see bad luck rear its spiteful head.
Waiting for that black cat to curse me,
For just so happening to cross its vengeful path.

But it didn’t.
And nothing happened.
So to hell with superstition,
It was a damned good day after all!

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