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New Yorker Cover

The New Yorker Cover

Kahlua doesn't sleep with me...
I'm a punching bag it's plain to see,
a feeder, a litter box cleaner, a go for the cans,
of pussycat delectable treats from envelopes...
and overpriced choice nibbles from metal cans.

Kahlua is a phantom, a will of the wisp...
meows and calls me to set up her tray...
if I try to play with her lovingly she runs away,
if I shake the bag of cat tidbits she might stay...
I'm a victim, a loser, ignored the rest of the day.

She knows my habits, my every move,
demands attention, never listens to me, I'm a prisoner,
a serf, a server, a nuisance, a slave...
the lowest of creatures, ignored and despised,
out to disrupt her, a teller of falsehood and lies...

The New York Cover should be rapidly discarded,
it should be burnt, thrown in the trash can with garbage,
never looked at; this feline is a menace,
a viper, a snapper, vain feline, a Moggy...
in my mind a tortoiseshell menace out with the tide.

(Written with Tongue-in-cheek!)

Author: Roy Schoenberg - Bay Shore, New York - 17th January, 2006.

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