how much would i give to be a cat
my pendulum tail tick-tocking on top of the countertop
like the metronome that sits by the piano unused
(but the ghosts turn it on every once in a while
when they tire of standing behind my shoulders
at four a.m. when i am in love and cannot sleep)
with the rays of sunlight that erupt
in the morning, i'll sing 'til the door swings open
and feet will emerge, and on top of them legs
that hold body and hands to feed me,
all for me and
no other being will be as praised as i,
the king of the kitchen