Trapped in the fragments 
 of a dream, he shrugs into a jacket,
 meanders into the parking lot 
 behind his condo, sleep-sentience 
 like tingling fingers keeping him awake.
 An ochre moon slides across the night,  
 gilding a mountain lion on the slope before him,
 head turning as she combs the air for scent.
 For food, he realizes, sensing the hunger 
 in her leanness; under this bright moon, 
 he could count her ribs. He glances 
 behind him at the condominium he’s bought, 
 bricks and painted trim, a scape 
 of stunted pines on ground that isn’t his. 
 The cougar quick-steps to a dumpster 
 spilling food inside a towering chain-link fence.  
 Around she goes, three times, four. 
 Then she’s down the other side of the hill.