a cat poem

my publisher calls from new york.

he yells at me.

what the hell is going on down there?

only six poems today?

are you okay?

you're not binge dating again are you?

i know what happens

when you join those dating sites

and start up

with meeting those floosies

for cocktails, you're a dead man.

bloated with vodka martinis and

calamari.

for crying out loud.

dig deep into your childhood or recent past

and come up

with some angst brother.

cut a vein and write me something good.

i've got a deadline to meet if we're

going to publish this new book.

you haven't written about a cat in a while.

how about a cat poem or two?

people love cats.