If they tell me
all women love writing poems
featuring cats, I'd
hiss and spit and
scrape their tongues out
for being presumptuous fools
lumps of scrounging
lead. I have no pet cats
I dream of one
a cat there never was --
sly-eyed and whiskery
sitting heavy rolled up at my feet
as I type this, snoring gently,
trustingly --
and a warm honey glow jam butter
feeling spreads over me.
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