silly cat
silent stalker of delectable delights
sitting before the refrigerator door
monk at the altar of a grudging god
beggar at the gates of the callous affluent

piously awaiting that blessed cornucopia
trove of tuna pâté and salmon Quiche
dribbles of leftover fried chicken and Alfredo sauce

silly cat
so much like me
so often sitting on the steps of sumptuous expectations
silent stalker of dreams just out of reach
sister in the habit of having the door close in her face
vagrant wandering the back roads of her own ambitions
devoutly devoted to that blessed belief
elusive illusion that somehow
abundant fulfillment will shower her
the next time that door opens

there it will have been all along


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