Cats have grace;
Men in brown leather jackets don’t.
They spend too much time zipping and unzipping,
while the cigarette they hold
between their fingers
and the beer on their tables gets warm –
warm beer is no good.
Cats walk with grace; their tails hung up.
I call them to me
making hissing sounds with my mouth.
They do not respond –
not even look at me,
but walk past to a flower
only to sprinkle their scent on it –
Cats have grace
in their shiny fur coats
Women coated in makeup don’t
It’s rawness that’s appealing –
Digging your teeth in an apple is appealing;
Slicing it, cutting it in six halves, is not.
Cats have grace,
and you know it when you look at them.
It is like watching beer bottles
from a distance
while you are thirsty –
after a hot sunny, day;
Everyone wants a bottle of beer,
only they do not know it;
every one wants to pet cats,
only they lack grace.