To the man with the sword
to the man with the plough
to the man with the wife
with whom he must row,

everyone sleeps
from the same pool of eternity
and walks closer each day
to it's shores.

From the woman with the rings
to the woman who wears rags,
from the lady who sings
and makes puppydogs wag,

everyone eats
from the same grainy earth
and toils in the soils until death
from birth.

Sit. Lie down. Heel.
Now stay.
Your puppydog boy does whatever you say.
And he’s always around if you’d like to play.
I knife in my heart when you look his way.
But aren’t I allowed to be happy? you say.
O happy dagger, I’ll play dead today.
Does he *** on the floor if you don’t take him out?
If you don’t rub his belly, does he puppydog pout?
Does he sleep all curled up at the foot of your bed?
Do you ever wish he understood what you said?
Does he lick your face? I bet he begs at the table.
Do you give him a ‘treat’ if he always obeys? Well,
As nice as slobbering mutts can be,
All of that nonsense just isn’t for me.
Me? I like graceful, quick-witted, refined-
The persuasion I lean towards is rather…
Feline.
I might not roll over whenever you say,
And perhaps I don’t melt when you look my way-
No tenderness do I let myself betray,
For I know what it takes to make you run away-
Maybe you cannot control our affair,
But there is a freedom in feelings laid bare.
You think you have everything you want right here,
But you don’t fool me- I know what you fear.
You couldn’t have made it the least bit more clear:
It’s feeling that scares you; you let no one near.
Because once you do, what if they disappear?
Ah, but that is the price of real happiness, dear.
But find a nice leash to hold onto your beau,
And pretend you are satisfied with what you know.
Where I am concerned, you’re so full of doubt:
Although I seem tame, that’s what you’re worried about.
For puppydogs follow wherever you go,
But where a cat travels, no one may know…