On our lunch break, I show Hayley my secrets:
the treasures that only reveal themselves
to dwellers and wanderers.
Behind Richmond Street,
the black cat graffiti I stumbled upon years ago
while eating ice cream alone and meandering
alleyways, starting at small sounds.
The art galleries are all dark and shut
and the garden rooftop is too many stairs up.
We head to the basement bookstore
where we pretend to peruse expensive old books
so we can pet the two mangy cats
who lord over them.