cats

if she liked people,
if she liked this life...
well, she never let on,
 that skinny black quickbitch,
anger spitting atcha,
shivering misery,
crying foul
in a rainstorm and
up a tree:
glowering down
like you were the dumb one

well,
I cried my eyes out
when the damn thing dashed
under the wheels
of the postman's van,
and gave up the ninth life

so,
she got replaced:

a smiling-fat, simple-ginger eunuch:
gentle,
still,
beatific, 
blissed out.

unlike my dad:

"that fucking thing!!!
it's shit all over my suit!!!
GET IT OUT OF HERE,
GET IT OUT OF HERE
or I'LL KILL IT,
it's going back to the shelter or
so help me god
I'll wring
its fucking NECK."