Dominia & Diavolo

Off the avenue of pet stores is a black stack house half of which is a pinkish creme shade of blush skin; we curiously walk by away from the direction of our headquarters often just to see who comes and goes. While Zoomy my bud of green trees ventures his inquiry I do the same into the corridor; there is no buzz or intercom. I wait on the steps inside the enclosed porch as I watch ladies adorning Chanel suits pass with toy dogs inside their matching purses; one is a baby blue poodle, another a gloomy rose shitsu, here comes white with grey tweed chihuahua, suddenly a black pin stripe Galliano suited pencil skirt without a blouse over a garter with lace top sheer smoking hot black stocks inside Moschino booty open toed four inch stiletto heels bouncing the penny to a dime for the stock market to collide into my DC black star stomps.

"I like your shoes..."

"I like yours too..."

"Better watch out the people around here don't take too kindly to skaters or bops."

"You're not from around here are you?"

"Reckon you figured that out quickly; that's why I don't talk too much. Usually just keep to myself, you're different though. Come on inside..."

"I'm not from around here either; nobody is a native New Yorker until you call it home then you are New York, know what I'm saying?"

"Yes I do..."

My attention is the Louis Vuitton suitcase she is carrying to her left side which is a customized cherry blossom design with black instead of the traditional chocolate brown; a soft sleek smoothness slims into my ankle while I look down.

"Wow........"

"She's amazing isn't she?"

"I've never seen anything like her before except hieroglyphics."

"Her name is Egypt; she just had kittens."

"With who?"

"You promise not to tell..."

"I promise..."

"A panther..."

Lynx felines are similar to Doberman pincers with a side of catty manners spiced with monkey agility marinated inside the instinct of a concrete jungle; these beautiful children on four pads stun anyone who lays eyes upon them as they bask in this awareness. I am still unsure how her abode is decorated to this moment except for a Salvador Dali painting of the Persistence of Memory hanging alongside the south side of a pentagon shaped den lined with wall shelved books in Arabic, one of which is a fairly intuitive peculiarity, The Oxford Dictionary of American English, a librarian's rarity.

Watching the kittens is the interest of oncoming evening as the sun sets behind the Empire State building these calico of many tapestry tones tumble about in the spectacle of youth; one stands alone in the shadows while emerald coasts peridot as a shore from the lighthouse glow. She is the iridescent behaviorism of dying night; I cried our woe.

"You found her....I have been looking for her everywhere! She only eats raw tuna from the port; it must be pink and tender or else she prefers to starve. She drinks a gallon of water a day!"

"I adore her....she reminds me of my twin."

"What do you think her name should be?"

"Dominia, she is the dominance of man."

"She certainly is the center of inattentiveness with the stance of a sentinel."

"That's exactly how I feel about him."

"Does he need extra sense for the darkness?"

"Yes..."

"Then she may go with you. You will need to walk her on a leash. People shouldn't know the difference between her and a dog. Diversion should keep them in check. You can handle that."

"What is your name?"

"Savannah, what's yours?"

"They call me Tosh; they call my twin Marley."

"I will call you Nefertiti."

Dominia knows where to go without a lead; Quasimoto is trailing behind.

"Pharaoh, when will greatness become the Pyramid?"

"When words dismiss a title."

"How does such emit an aura?"

"Speech is our communication however since language is in the midst of confusion then names do not mean anything at all."

"If a sound can be understood by all of creation then is it a title for that which it represents?"

"If the sound is the creation."

"Noise is the becoming of which..."

"Noise can also be confusion if the source is chaos."

"Creation is not chaos?"

"Creation is logic amongst chaos."

His throne is a chair which he rests as I dictate lettering of his studious forensic history; nobody knows a mystery better than the king whose kingdom is a ghost of desert sand.

"You were dreaming..."

"You were as well..."

Running about in an elliptical circle amongst our legs as we both stumble a white pointy eared demon licks the tail of a black goatee angel; while we lay on our backs exploring the dimension of the lost self a pair of furry bottoms topples our tummies.

"I named him Diavolo; his eyes are the flames of a dragon's temper."

"I named her Dominia; her eyes are the electricity of eels underwater."