Even More After Charles Baudelaire
Oh, mongrel cat, don’t run away!
Be still and don’t be terrified,
So I can look into your eyes
Of agate and gun metal gray.
If you don’t spit and turn away,
If you don’t wriggle, hiss, or wheeze,
I’ll pick off all your mites and fleas.
Come now, my skinny, mangy stray.
You bring my girl friend to my mind;
She can, in twenty seconds flat,
Look sly and willful, much like you.
Her jet black head and shapely curves
Give off a powerful perfume.
Oh, gosh! She smells like you, old cat.
© Alice Park 2004