Quizzical Eyes, Inquiring As to Your Faith

Life is like a cat sometimes
In your lap perhaps spurred on or purred out
She jumps off preferring the couch
And with muzzle-snide paw-licking slaps
Asides that seem such a cruel
And pale wraith of former moments
With cat larynx spherical music
Which champagne had gone
To your head but then you wake
And she’s in your lap again
With quizzical eyes
Inquiring as to your faith

New PR-194

The Lap of Sweet Alicia

Certain cats I’m not

Naming any names

Don’t stash themselves in your lap

Out of love but rather

For the cheap Pavlov connection

Of that you feed them

My cat however Dahlia took two years

And her honied time to finally sleep by me

And still she never does laps

In the light of day

Except if it’s of course the lap of sweet

Alicia jusqu’a my Dahlia’s de rigueur

Adoring purring look with her

Snout just about an inch

From Alicia’s face

Alicia says no doubt out of tact

But betraying some pride in the fact:

“I am a cat whisperer”

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Remembering Her Mother

Have you ever had your cat

Play kitten in your lap?

I mean larnyx active stuff:

Knead as kittens do their mother’s

Stomach? You need protection–

Some towel or such

But it’s worth it when

Your cat suspends disbelief

Remembering her mother