AmorMoveoSol

We are still living with Mozart, down the hall, third door on the right, third-floor walkup behind the KFC on the corner of one street and another we remain unable to leave him. He follows us home when we stop visiting and waits on the back porch for handouts: water, a sandwich, sheet music, that baby grand piano we always meant to learn to play. He sits and he waves to the neighbors and he waits, a stray cat we adopted without meaning to, we have the heart neither to keep him or give him away.  He will not stay in the attic or in his apartment, but. He plays so nicely.  He plays our strings like a cat's cradle of violins and w