minding your own
beeswax
and voilá,
a wildcat
shows up
you have no choice
but to love him,
savage as he may be.
(pictured on their patio: Cookie and David's bobcat)
It all began
for me
with that picture
painted by Dale
twenty years ago.
Check out the li'l dahlink
peeping over my shoulder.
Two decades
and two understudies
later...
the first two couldn't keep their lines
straight...
the third
arrived demanding
star treatment.
I spend inordinate amounts of time
writing cat menus in my sketchbook.
I make it easy, just check yes oder no:
_____oui _____non
preceding each entreé,
appetizer or beverage on the list.
pages fill quickly with non after non
checks.
I dream of opening
the first kateteria,
"Guesssss Who's Coming to Dinner"
in New York
and of making the cover
of Biznessweek with its
and my brilliance.
Katomat.
Everyone
will pounce on
the chance
for kitty
to dine in such fine
design.
Catering to
hoity-toities of
utmost taste and
comportment,
no gangstas
allowed.
which would keep
mine off the premises;
glad i own the place.
Cuisine
guaranteed to
please
the best cons
on the planet,
meaning mine,
who will
open
a grand total of
two
katomat doors
to obsession,
either:
1.light cream, only one kind
is acceptable...no cheapo
will do. and,
2.solid white albacore,
NOT the skanky store kind,
brand name only
because it costs the most.
It's all very bad business, I know.
What comes 'round again is such mystery, ain't it.
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