“Heavy Petting”

What’s the refrain, in your brain, today?

“Silly girl. Kumquat girl. Silly gir-”  -the refrain, in my brain,  not sad   true. 

And now, a poem for us all to outjoy. Shout out to St Gertrude of Nivelles, fond, I remember. 

Poem’s original name- Outside Cat.  Yes, it began about a surly cat, but then it evolved into an old boyfriend, then into a reflection on a certain type of man, an outside man we’ll call him.   Then I found no! this is not just one type of man, it seems that most men must maintain or contain an outside cat somewhere in his psyche.  Which is  ok, no worry, just interesting to think about. 
I happed upon this poem while on a city bus.  Sometimes I commute via bus and on this day I overheard a fellow traveler 

bemoan her disgust, her ire 

at this cat 

and his outside cat woes.  

This woman was loud.  Aghast.  She was 

amazing. 

The venom.  The cacophony.    And

The poem came about.  From one unforgettable phrase.   So

Without further     ado, 


“Heavy Petting”

He was an outside cat and you had to treat him as such

or he’d scratch.    sharpen claws  couch    he’d pee

In the box he’d get mad but never eyes sad just hiss rahrr and moan  smash all stuff. 


He was smart he would watch you brew tea or boil mush

but he’d fuss   climb amuck    sweet gum tree

He was an outside cat and you had to treat him as such. 


“Fuck that cat.” -the refrain   he’d say in his brain     he’d heard it so much

so sad  true.  Yet when he niggled the clouded pillow feathers I shouted  oh my god this is supposed to be funny

Back to box he’d get mad but never quite sad just hiss rahrrnnn gut moan    smash all stuff. 


He wouldn’t go where I told him   porch  shiver    we  touch 

Please god I can’t, I can’t love him so much.   But… the pee. Smell the pee.  Please stop   pee.

He was an outside cat and you had to treat him as such. 


He’d slink but not pounce and I never found out how his claws felt through skin what a cunt. 

He’d tally and sidle, wiggle tail right inside you.   one time on my bed   he went pee. 

In the box he’d get mad but never eyes sad just hiss rraahrnnnsssss gut moans   smash all stuff. 


He’d loathe and rebuff  (but never was quite so tough)

     this is the very last time I text  pee

I should’ve known- in his brain- fuck that cat- the refrain  then I must yes you must  treat  as  such. 

In next box he’ll get mad but probably not sad just hiss rahrr gut moan  smash your stuff. 

  

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