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The Mystique Of Kahlua

The first words read while arising from bed,
an article from the New Yorker, the beginning,
the author Bill Buford, the first paragraph what did it say?
The goriness of meat eating, the preparation of killing...

I thought of the phrase, the mystique of our pet cat Kahlua,
sitting erectly ready for breakfast, I brushed my teeth, took a pill,
put on a robe and slippers, went downstairs, fed her, loved her...
a meal for her majesty spooned out from a fifty cents can.

She is twelve years old I'm eighty three, a long life for the two of us,
what is the connection mixed bred feline and me?
She is tortoiseshelled and I'm alas well lined, what can it be?
Kahlua mostly ignores me we know our mutual patterns, easy to see.

I am the feeder in the morning that is my plea, I do the work, we agree,
on occasions she seeks petting, comes to my lap agreeably...
I speak to her, she then to me, two becoming one hesitatingly...
two equal partners sharing each other magnificently.

1st December, 2007

Author: Roy Schoenberg - Bay Shore, New York.

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