It's my favourite issue, Miss February photographed—a bilateral dissection of an alley cat sprawled across a two-page spread: milk-white hypodermic needle of a skin as numbing as a Nixon nuclear winter; cherrying ruby lips coated by a fainting newsprint-suckle-of-acid powder blue tint. She, icy kiss, stiffens extremities in the way undesirably low body temperatures refuse blood to diffuse for quick movements of escape. No fight, no flight—I don't want to leave, anyway; I have spat granules of stone from such declarative speech and began a rock collection beside my bed. The backdrop against the delicacy of her snow-mound of limbs&