Poem: Cats



Ah to be more like a cat

Often aloof and seemingly sophisticated

Walking by everyone as though they are invisible

Or pretending I am

Rubbing up against any object in self-satisfying pleasure

With utter disregard of how it may look

Or the marks it may eventually leave on the corners of walls

Being able to hide all times of the day

Where no soul can possibly find me

Even though they may look for a while, and

Instead of calling the police they say:

Well, she’ll turn up when she’s good and ready

(Because I always do)–especially when I’m hungry

I can sit and feign that an annoying dog isn’t right in front of me

Barking and slobbering

And with one swift bat to the nose

Simply walk away as though I have better things to do

Like look out a window

Or lick myself

Or purr myself to sleep

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