I like cats
They’re perfectly content to be watched
Not spoken to
Admired, occasionally played with
Curiously intelligent
The same look
And a thousand expressions
They’re the best kind of company
Quiet, but pointy.

Utterly transfixed
On some spec of dust
As though it bore all the significance in the world
Sometimes
they
plod,
Sometimes dart for no reason.
Noisy and pointy.