Grace, Men, Women, Cats, Beer, and Cigarettes

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
burn out,
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.

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