Suddenly, at the end of one long wailing tune that has tears running down everyone’s cheeks, it appears that an imp has bitten the musician. He smirks, and begins to sing in a reedy voice filled with irony:
      I threw out my cat
      With the blue eyes.
      When I was asleep at night
      She stuck her claws in deep.
      All the months I had her
      She never put a foot wrong
      Now she’s taken on airs
      And doesn’t eat her fish.
      I threw her out for good,
      And, next day, there she is
      Bringing me some little mice
      And turning on an act.
      Now, I’ve found another cat
      A prettier, black eyed one
      She’s a cunning creature, too
      And breaks plates on the sly.

      Everyone in the restaurant laughs, applauds, and shouts for more wine, and when the waiter appears with bottles cradled in his arms, we cheer. 
      It goes on like this until the beginning of day squeezes the stars out of the sky. We head back up the mountain to our house and the music fills our heads as night lets go and the sun rises over Samos. At the entrance to our dreams we still hear the words of the pure heart, the true heart, the path we know is real.

Alex Morton

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