For a week I'm not a guest

We're both curled up,
feline,
half-asleep,
me on the sofa and the cat
on a duvet on the floor
and this kind of life
is the kind
I'll have when I find it.
I watched a bat
while outside
for my endless smokes,
swooping in the air,
quick strokes
and thin wings
and friendly english banter
from the bakery next door
in the middle of night.
I'm the happiest and saddest
without comparing,
superlatives in their own right,
because nothing compares
now,
here,
and I guess I know why
Virginia said
all a girl needs to write,
or live, as I'd see it,
is a room of her own
and a little money.