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Kahlua relaxing at home.Feline Home Ownership
This house is mine, I know it well,
The patio sliding glass door,
the rugs, the windowsill.
I follow the sunlight, spot to spot,
on the comforting bed sheets,
the map is in my mind, laid out
conveniently at my padded feet.
Every meal is not an awesome treat.
Canned sliced cat food I ignore,
too much effort to separate the gooey stuff,
The gravy clings to every single piece
of the chemical tasting meat.
The kitchen table at dinnertime is
tidbits of chicken, even roast beef
merits my attention...
I pick and choose, when sated I leave
to seek more ease.
On the couch, clean myself or casually
change my seat, my personal
I don't worry about the mortgage,
haven't paid a bill.
If I'm petted lovingly, I may stay a
moment or might be still.
Satisfying whims are my major
I tolerate my fellow home members,
they're all right I guess...
But other animal visiting guests
are intrusive unwelcome pests.
Home ownership is handy, I accept it,
serves my purposes.
Being feral might be a drag,
I grudgingly accept a collar and a tag.
Basically I am uncooperative...
But fortunately domestication is my bag!
14th June 2004
Author: Kahlua The Kat - Bay Shore, New York, USABack to The Poems of Roy Schoenberg