In the gallery the sleepy alley cat at day
does his rounds at night, a tiger in the grass of masters
sneaks in after hours but no one knows how.
Here he comes to parade in darkness
without setting off the alarm.
Lean are the shadows of his corpulence.
Framed faces on walls
send him messages he understands,
his fur is touched by painted hands.
He leaves at dawn to go elsewhere.
Sometimes you, paying visitor, will hear a sneeze
while no one else but you is there.