You stand on my chest
announcing
displeasure
in my ear
at five a.m.
(Where is my coffee?)
Points of contention:
new kittens
litter brands
the virtues of foil pouches over cans.
An erudite debate
you sing
whiskers back make the
point.
And while we're at it
You express yourself
on my choice of music
leaving kitty surprises
downstairs
landmines of displeasure
await me.
We negotiate:
Foil yes,
but the kittens stay,
if they rodeo
I'll give you catnip,
kitty heroin,
to soothe you,
while they stalk spiders
on ceilings
and scream their alarm.
*****
The picture is of a baby Pita, the cat whose name I swiped for my user name. She is only a little bit bigger at 5 years of age. Her head is tiny (about the same size,) and she weighs only 2 pounds.)
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